Power of the Press
by TwiLyght Sans Sparkles
Summary: Draco Malfoy was the first to discover the Fanfic Writers--and their startling power to alter his reality. He was not the last.
1. Chapter 1

* * *

For the twelfth time that month, Draco Malfoy woke up with a song in his head.

For the tenth time that month, it was a song he'd never heard before.

For the first time ever, it was shaping up to be a song he liked.

_I'm here for you, she said  
And we can stay for a while  
My boyfriend's gone, we can just pretend..._

Hm...not too bad. Catchy beat, nice guitars....and one of the coolest voices he'd ever heard. Way better than Celestina Warbeck, but then again, who wasn't?

_Lips that need no introduction  
Now who's the greater sin?  
Your drab eyes seem to invite  
Tell me darling, where do we begin? _

For some reason, the lyrics reminded him of Pansy. She _was _kind of a whore...

What was he _thinking_?! You don't just call your girlfriend a whore! Unless, of course, that was what she was....

No. Pansy wasn't a whore, even if she had made out with every moderately attractive guy in Slytherin before she started dating him. He pushed the lyrics out of his head and began getting dressed.

This had happened the day before, too, only the song had been something about how he was "holding out for a hero." For a few minutes, he had begun to think about what nice eyes Potter had....before racing to the nearest bathroom and dunking his head in freezing water. That seemed to be the only solution when these episodes came upon him.

He got halfway down the stairs before he saw Pansy talking--no, flirting--with Theodore Nott.

_Was this over before  
Before it ever began?__  
Your kiss, your calls, your crutch  
Like the devil's got your hand  
This was over before  
Before it ever began_

No...it wasn't over. He blinked, but the image remained. Pansy was still flirting with his best friend.

_Your lips, your lies, your lust  
Like the devil's in your hands_

"Pansy?"

She turned and grinned, no hint of shame. "Hi, Draco."

"Um, hi. What're you doing?"

"Just talking. Can't I talk?"

_Everyone in this town  
Is seeing somebody else_

Draco finished coming down the stairs and touched Pansy's arm. "Can we talk?" He didn't wait for her to answer, but dragged her underneath the stairwell.

"Draco, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" He laughed harshly. "Well, let's start with the fact that you're flirting with my best friend!"

"I wasn't flirting!"

He put his hands together and put them to one side of his head, batting his eyes dreamily. "Oh, Theo, your glasses are sooooo sexy--tell me that's not flirting!"

She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. "I never said that."

_Everybody's tired of someone  
Our eyes wander for help_

"Well, it doesn't matter what you said--you were flirting." She started to defend herself but he cut her off. "And don't try to say you weren't--you've been doing that for the past two weeks, Pansy. Don't think I haven't seen it. You've thrown yourself at every single guy in Slytherin--"

"Well, maybe if _someone _wasn't being such a rag--"

"I wouldn't _be_ such a rag if _you _didn't act like such a whore!"

She drew back, covering her mouth, and Draco's stomach dropped. He had just broken his own rule: He had called his girlfriend a whore.

_Prayers that need no answer now  
'Cause I'm tired of who I am_

"Pansy, I--" He started to apologize, then came to a shocking realization: He wasn't sorry. He had called her a whore and he wasn't sorry.

_You were my greatest mistake  
I fell in love with your sin  
Your littlest sin_

"Pansy, listen..."

She waved him away, then ran off, sobbing loudly.

_Was this over before  
Before it ever began?_

Yes, he admitted. It was. This fling was over before it ever began.

_Your kiss, your calls, your crutch  
Like the devil's got your hand  
This was over before  
Before it ever began  
Your lips, your lies, your lust  
Like the devil's in your hands _

He sank against the wall of the stairwell, letting the song wash over him, cleansing wounds he himself had opened. For once, the music fit his mood.

* * *

Liesel Marsden went over the document once more before pressing the SAVE button. She took a deep breath, turned off the music, and hit the "New Story" button.

Draco Malfoy breaks up with Pansy Parkinson, set to Anberlin's "Feel Good Drag"...this was, by far, the best songfic she'd ever written.

* * *

_Loved it? Hated it? Just press that pretty little button that says "Review..." _

_Seriously. I'll Imperious you if you don't. _


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

"You hear about Malfoy and Parkinson?"

Hermione Granger slid into her seat. "No, what happened?" She figured it must be something about the Inquisitorial Squad and prepared for the worst.

"They broke up."

Now _this _was news. "When?"

"This morning. Parkinson was crying at breakfast this morning--"

"I noticed Malfoy looked really guilty."

"Yeah. Anyway, I found out he dumped her just this morning."

Hermione was about to say something when the classroom door opened and Draco Malfoy walked into Ancient Runes. His hair was disheveled, as if he had spent the past few class periods raking his fingers through it, and he stared at the floor as he slowly made his way to his seat. Hermione noticed that all side conversations had stopped. All eyes seemed to be on him.

Draco was not so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed the suffocating silence when he entered the room. Nor had the fact that all eyes were on him escaped his notice. His seat had never seemed so far away. Why had he ever picked a seat on the opposite side of the room in the first place?

By the time he reached his seat, he was all too aware that the teacher wouldn't arrive for another five minutes. He couldn't take the silence that long. He slammed his books on his desk and looked up.

"All right! Yes, I dumped Pansy Parkinson. Yes, she took it way too hard. Yes, I feel terrible about making her cry. There, you see? I'm not a heartless bastard and I'm not--" He stopped, realizing what he was about to say: _And I'm not in love with Harry Potter! _Was he the only one who kept hearing that stupid "holding out for a hero" song?

Heaving a sigh, he dropped into his seat and buried his nose in _Spellman's Syllabary. _

* * *

"Why do you write so many Drarry fics?"

Katie O'Mally grinned. "Because they're made for each other! They just don't know it yet."

Liesel sniffed and took a sip of her cream soda, pushing her long blond hair over her shoulder. "Doubt they ever will. You do realize neither of them are gay, right?"

"You don't know that."

"Uh, yeah I do." Liesel stood, leaving the document up. At least Katie hadn't ruined any _good _songs by using them for her vile purposes; right now, she seemed to be stuck on using Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out for a Hero," which was fine with her. The day Katie O'Mally used Jewel's "Meant for Me" or Rob Thomas' "Ever the Same" would be Katie O'Mally's last day on this earth. "They both like girls. End of story."

Katie sat back down at the computer and began editing her songfic. "Whatever you say, O Ignorant One."

* * *

Harry Potter sat in one of the Gryffindor common room's armchairs, hunched forward, head in his hands.

_Where have all the good men gone  
And where are all the gods?_

"Ugh...."

_Where's the street-wise Hercules  
To fight the rising odds?_

"Make it stop...."

"Something wrong, Harry?"

He looked up, misery etched across his face, and saw Fred and George Weasley. "No..." He stopped, realizing his salvation might be standing in front of him. "Hey, you guys know any good songs that get stuck in your head really easy?"

_Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?_

They sat down next to him. "Sure, we know plenty," Fred said.

"What kind of song you looking for?"

_Late at night I toss and dream of what I need_

"Anything...." he moaned, burying his head in his hands again. Fred and George looked at each other, grinned, and began to sing.

_I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves  
Everybody's nerves_

_I need a hero_

_Everybody's nerves_

_I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night_

_I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves_

The two songs blended together into one super-annoying song. Harry groaned, pressed his hands against his ears. "Make it stop..._make it stop._..."

_He's gotta be strong  
And he's gotta be fast_

_And this is how it goes...._

Harry stood abruptly, hands clenched into fists, and screamed at the top of his lungs. "I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH DRACO MALFOY!!!!"

All noise in Gryffindor Tower ceased and all eyes turned to Harry, who was breathing heavily. Ron's eyes were widest.

"Uh, that's good to know...."

Hermione blinked. "Yeah, Harry....thanks for sharing...."

He took a deep breath and stormed out of Gryffindor Tower. He ran down the stairs and headed straight for Slytherin.

Time to end this once and for all.

* * *

Liesel found Katie's songfic without much trouble. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity that made her seek it out and read the reviews; perhaps it was a sick desire for the pain of seeing yet more praise for yet another Drarry fic.

She clicked on the "Reviews" option.

_Hey, great one-shot, _the first reviewer said. _Absolutely hilarious. The ending was a nice departure from your usual "Oh, Draco!" "Oh, Harry!" fare. Truely a nice surprise. _

Liesel frowned. A nice departure from Katie's typical happy endings? But....the ending was just like the endings for all of her other Drarry fics....and Katie's fics were never funny.

_wat? they dont get 2gether? butt....they're perfect 4 each other!!!! _

Draco and Harry....not getting together? That wasn't a Katie ending.

_I usually don't read DracoxHarry fics, but I loved this one! The fight at the end was hilarious!_

Fight? There hadn't been a fight when Liesel read the rough draft. Maybe Katie had changed the ending.

Frowning, Liesel decided to read the final published version.

* * *

The instant Harry arrived at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, he began guessing at passwords.

"Pureblood!"

The gargoyles didn't move.

"Thieves of magic!"

Nothing.

"Racist bigots!"

Still nothing.

_Try Parseltongue. _

He wasn't sure where the idea came from, but he decided to go with it. If he squinted and looked at the snakes carved into the entrance from just the right angle, they _almost_ looked like they were moving....

_"Let me in," _he rasped. _"This is important." _

The gargoyles looked surprised. _"We're not racist bigots," _they rasped back.

_"I know," _Harry said. _"I'm sorry. I just really, really need inside. Could you please let me in?" _

They moved aside and let him pass through the opening. He ducked through, and the wall closed off behind him, leaving him stranded among some very surprised Slytherins.

"Where's Malfoy?"

Pansy Parkinson whirled around and leapt to her feet. "Potter? What are you--"

"Where's Malfoy?" he repeated, more forcefully this time.

The Slytherins were either too surprised at the recent breakup of their two prefects or too surprised to see Harry Potter in their common room to argue. "He's, uh, in the bathroom," a brown-haired boy with glasses said. "First door on the left."

"Thanks." Harry stormed past them and into the bathroom. Sure enough, there was Malfoy, banging his head against the wall next to a running faucet. Too angry to ask why he was banging his head against the wall, he marched right over, grabbed Draco's shoulder, and spun him around.

"I am not in love with you," he said, "and I want you to get this song out of my head."

Draco, still dazed, put a hand to his aching forehead. "You...wha? What song?" His eyes suddenly widened in understanding. "You mean....you're hearing it too?"

"Yes, I'm hearing it too! You put it there!"

"No I didn't! Never mind that I don't know how--why would I get a stupid song stuck in my own head?"

Harry stumbled back a step. He didn't know what to say to that one.

"And what's more," Draco continued, "if I was in love with you--thank God I'm not--why would I be here in the bathroom banging my head against the wall?"

Harry stumbled back against the wall, feeling hot color flood his cheeks. "Sorry," he said. Then, after a long and awkward pause, "Why _were _you banging your head against the wall? And....why is the water running?"

Draco swallowed, crossed to the sink, and turned the water off--after splashing some on his aching forehead. "I was trying to get the song out of my head."

"With water."

"This happened yesterday, too. But when it happened then, all I had to do to make it stop was dunk my head into a sink full of freezing water." He laughed mirthlessly. "Not so today. That's why I started banging my head against the wall."

"And it still hasn't stopped?"

"No." He looked at the floor, then up at Harry. "You?"

"No."

Another long pause. "Any ideas on how to stop it?" Draco asked after a minute. "I mean, now that you know I'm not causing it."

Harry gritted his teeth at the edge in Malfoy's tone. "Look, I said I was sorry. I'll help you find a way to stop this if you'll just forget it, okay?"

He shrugged. "Whatever."

Another pause. "Think we should....I dunno....get out of the bathroom and figure out a plan?"

"I'll go first. You wait a minute and then come out after me."

"Why does it matter who goes first?"

He crossed to the door. "Because before I came in here, I screamed I wasn't in love with you. If we go out together...."

"We'll never hear the end of it."

"Exactly." He left the bathroom. Harry waited a few minutes--just long enough to let everyone think he had to go--then followed. Once he emerged, the entire Slytherin common room stared at him.

"He....he went to the library," a surprised-looking fourth year said, wiping her smeared lipstick.

"Thanks." Armed with that information, Harry left for the libarary.

_"Come again soon," _the gargoyles called as he raced past.

* * *

Liesel was just about to call Katie when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Leese, why'd you change my fic?"

"Katie, I didn't--"

"You're the only other person who knows my password, Leese!"

"Katie, I didn't change it. I _never _change your fics!"

"Whatever. I'm changing it back." Liesel winced as Katie slammed the reciever down, then raked her fingers through her hair.

Something was seriously wrong here.

* * *

_Sorry to everyone who was expecting a Drarry story, but 1) I don't write slash, 2) Draco and Harry are not gay, and 3) Their reactions to Katie's songfic are necessary to the plot. So just keep reading...._


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

"So...you just walked out of the bathroom, snogged a fourth year, and went to the library?"

Draco grinned without looking up from his book. "Pretty much."

Harry dropped a stack of books onto the table with a _thud _that made Madame Pince glare at him. "That's one way to do it, I guess."

"You have a better way to convince them we're not _madly _in love?"

"Never said I did." He sat down and opened the first book in the stack. "So...what're you looking for?"

"Memory charms."

"Why?"

He turned a page. "How else would we get everyone else to forget what happened back there?"

"Shouldn't we be looking for a way to make this stop? I mean, just yesterday I woke up with some weepy country song in my head and I kept thinking about how much I want to snog Hermione. I've _never _wanted to snog Hermione."

He looked up quizzically. "Really? That's been happening to me, too!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! I'll wake up thinking about Ginny or Hermione--mostly Hermione--and I'll hear these songs I've never heard before." He shook his head. "It's weird."

Harry flicked through a few pages without really reading them. "You wouldn't happen to have had a song in your head this morning, when you dumped Pansy, would you?"

"Yeah. I did. For once it was one I liked."

For several long moments, the only sound was that of pages being turned. Harry flipped through the spellbook without reading any, lost in thought. It was like working a puzzle with most of the pieces missing--he had just pieces enough to confuse him, but not enough to complete the picture.

Harry put the book aside and began flipping through the next one in the stack.

* * *

Katie logged onto her account and went to the Document Manager. She scrolled down and found the document she'd used for her most recent songfic, then clicked on it angrily. It was fine with her if Liesel didn't like her Drarry fics, but changing her story was beyond the pale.

She took a deep breath to calm herself and scrolled down to the end. Nothing had been changed from the moment where Harry got into Slytherin using Parseltongue, but Liesel had changed the meeting in the bathroom completely. She felt anger rising again and tried to push it back. It had been some of her best work, too--one of the most emotional scenes she'd ever written.

Katie read the document, searching for changes to fix. _Okay, Harry gets into Slytherin using Parseltongue, he's directed to the bathroom, and...._

She frowned. The meeting in the bathroom was exactly the same as when she'd written it--Harry finds Draco crying, asks why the water was left running, Draco says it's so no one would hear him, Harry assures him of his love, they kiss, embrace, end of story.

She read it again. Nothing had changed. Same ending, same wording, even the same typos.

Katie picked up the phone. Maybe Liesel had changed it some other way.

* * *

Harry and Draco stayed in the libary until it was time for dinner. It was only when he stood up that he noticed the silence filling his mind.

The song was gone.

He looked at Draco. "I don't hear the song anymore."

Draco frowned, putting a hand to his forehead. "Me neither. Weird."

"Wonder how we stopped it."

"Don't know, don't care. I'm just glad it's gone."

They walked to the Great Hall in silence. Somewhere along the line, Draco began walking faster, reaching the Hall a few moments before Harry did. It wasn't until he saw members of all four Houses whispering behind their hands that he realized it had been part of his plan--and what a good idea it was.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked when he sat down.

"What was what?"

"That outburst, back in the common room," Ron said.

"Oh...that. I....I really don't know. Malfoy and I were just trying to figure it out."

"Well, now half the school thinks you're madly in love and the other half thinks that half is crazy."

Harry sighed. "Figured as much."

* * *

Katie called again, but Liesel maintained she was innocent. "Katie, remember that fic you wrote a few weeks ago--the one I said was really creepy?"

"Yeah....."

"I didn't edit that one, did I?"

Katie had to admit she hadn't.

"Besides, you put this new fic up at what? Three?"

"Around then."

"I didn't go home until four, and I didn't even get on the computer until four-thirty. How could I have changed it without getting on the computer? Hm?"

Katie sank onto her chair with a sigh. "Okay, well, if _you_ didn't change it...who did?"

* * *

At two-thirty the next morning, Draco still hadn't fallen asleep. He lay awake, going over the events of the day. Half his House thought he and Harry were now a couple--an opinion that was hotly debated by the other half of his House. Fortunately, the latter half had kept the former from taunting him too much.

He was anything but surprised when another song entered his head. This one, however, was not a love song.

_Burning down Neverland, scatter the ashes  
White lines, black tar the matches  
Is this another death by misadventure?  
Tell me what you got, what you really got  
Hey, hey! _

Death by misadventure? What the hell?

_We'll rest in our graves  
Lexington course your veins  
Sleepers can't just wake the dead  
When needles and lovers collapse on guilty beds_

_(Fall asleep) Don't fall asleep  
(Fall asleep) Don't fall asleep  
Don't fall asleep  
They lied when they said that the good die young_

_They lied when they said the good die young  
Wo-oh-ah!  
They lied when they said the good die young_

He sat up, listening intently. Good die young? Had somebody died?

_Stay with me, stay with me tonight_

Stay with me tonight? But...that meant whoever it was wasn't dead yet.

_Burning down bridges now, scatter the ashes  
Godspeed to all you're after  
Is this a life led just to remember?  
Tell them who you were, who you really were  
Hey, hey!_

Yes, someone was going to die. It made perfect sense. He had heard a song about dating the wrong girl just before breaking up with Pansy; now he was hearing a "don't leave me, pal" anthem, so it must mean someone was going to die.

He found it hard to breathe, but kept listening. Maybe the song would give him a clue.

_Kill yourself slowly over time  
Fashion statement suicide  
She's still asleep in the Chelsea hotel  
Bad turns to worse and the worse turns into hell_

Fashion statement suicide? It had said "kill yourself slowly over time"....was someone dying right now?

_  
(Fall asleep) Don't fall asleep  
(Fall asleep) Don't fall asleep  
Don't fall asleep  
God save the eyes that dim tonight _

His heart raced. Tonight?

_They lied when they said the good die young  
Wo-oh-ah!  
They lied when they said the good die young  
Stay with me, stay with me tonight _

The song launched into a killer guitar solo, but Draco was already on his feet, pulling his robe over his pajamas, yanking his slippers on. Something within told him to go to Gryffindor Tower, so Gryffindor Tower was where he went.

_Oh God, don't let Umbridge be up...._

* * *

Liesel turned off the music and reread her songfic again. The day's events had put her in a rather emo mood, which probably accounted for the song and subject matter she had chosen for her next fic.

First Draco and Pansy's breakup set to "Feel Good Drag," and now Sirius' death set to "Godspeed." It was an Anberlin day, she decided.

* * *

_I know you probably have a million questions--and I wouldn't blame you if the first thing you said after reading this chapter was "HOLY CRAP I AM SO CONFUSED!!!!!" Trust me, I know where I'm going with this. I shall answer all of your questions in time. _


	4. Chapter 4

Draco made it halfway up the stairs leading out of the dungeons before halting midstep. What if Umbridge was out of bed, or had put up some sort of student-wandering-around-the-castle-at-2-AM alarm? No, it would've caught him by now....unless only _she _could hear it.....

Well, it was too late now. If she'd heard it, she'd heard it. And this was important. If caught, he would get out of trouble with a combination of bald-faced lying and advanced butt-kissing.

At the top of the steps, he stopped again. Risking detection--and detention--to warn Potter could--and would--be taken the wrong way by members of both Houses. Come to think of it, running around the castle at midnight to find someone you had just screamed you weren't in love with was a very gay thing to do.

He stood at the top of the steps for a long moment before heading back to bed. Hopefully, nobody would die tonight.

* * *

Katie reread Liesel's fic and stood, leaving the document up.

"So? What do you think?"

"It's good," she said. "You stole my song, though."

"Don't tell me you were going to write a Drarry fic set to 'Godspeed'."

"Well, it fits! Harry's thoughts about Draco after Draco joins Voldemort--see? It works."

"Barely."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She didn't tell Liesel that she had completed the rough draft the night before and was going to publish it in a few days. Something this good needed time to make it perfect.

* * *

The next morning, Harry was torn between avoiding Draco and salvaging what was left of his reputation and telling Draco what he'd heard the night before, thereby confirming rumors that the two of them were now a couple. He decided to compromise.

In Potions that afternoon, he scribbled what he'd heard the night before on one side of a piece of parchment and a threatening note on the other, crumpled it up so the threatening side would be opened first, and lobbed it at the back of Draco's head. He turned as the note hit, glared, picked it up, read it, and looked up at Harry with a look that said _Wow, I'm going to try and look mad for the sake of appearances, but I'm actually pretty impressed. _

_Turn it over, _Harry mouthed, making the motion with his hands. Draco did, read the note, and looked up at Harry again. His look was clear.

_What the hell is going on here?_

Draco shoved the note into his pocket just as Snape walked by.

* * *

Alex Payne sat at his computer, staring at the blank white page that seemed to mock him. _You can't do this, _it seemed to say. _You'll never be able to top FireMage777's _Harry Potter/Star Wars _crossover fic. _

"We'll see about _that," _he muttered, taking another sip of his Monster. The energy drink seemed to reawaken his creative spark, for in the next instant an idea struck. He began to write, almost frantically, desperate to get the words down before they were lost forever.

As his fingers flew across the keyboard, he grinned. JK Rowling couldn't come up with something this brilliant.

* * *

Draco met that evening and agreed to write down all the lyrics they could remember from the song and try to decode them for clues. So after classes, they retreated to their separate Houses, told anyone who thought they were dating to shut up, and wrote down all the lyrics they could remember.

By breakfast the next morning, they weren't any closer to figuring out who was going to die, but an equally shocking surprise awaited them in the Great Hall. As soon as everyone was seated, McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Attention, students. I have an announcement to make." All heads turned toward the teachers' table and rested on McGonagall. "A new wizarding family has just moved to our area, and so, for the first time in nearly five hundred years, we have an American transfer student."

Students whispered behind their hands. McGonagall waited for the buzzing to die down before continuing.

"I know this may come as a shock to you....and an inconveniance to others," she said, glancing pointedly at a very unpleasant-looking Umbridge and an even more sour-looking Snape. "The Ministry has told us that it is for his own safety. So, without further ado, please welcome....Napoleon Dynamite!"

All heads turned toward the entrance to the Great Hall, and a tall, skinny boy with thick, curly red hair and glasses appeared. He was breathing heavily, as if he had run all the way from the Hogsmeade station to the Great Hall. A single question formed in the minds of Hogwarts' students: _THIS is the American transfer student? _

"Have a seat on the stool, Napoleon, and you will be Sorted into your House."

Napoleon ran to the stool, head down, back slightly hunched as if dodging invisible curses, sat down, and put the Sorting Hat on.

"Hello, Napoleon Dynamite," the Hat said in a very small voice.

"Hi," Napoleon said, loud enough for those nearby to hear.

"First American transfer student in nearly five hundred years. You must be very proud to get in the history books like this."

"I don't care," he said. "I'm just glad Uncle Rico didn't come."

"No need to talk so loud," the Hat said. "Just think what you want to say and I'll hear it....now...for the Sorting." The Hat was talking very fast, as if afraid to let Napoleon speak. "Let's see....you have a strong desire for fairness and are extremely loyal to your friends--why else would you have supported Pedro when he ran for class president?"

_You got that right, _Napoleon thought.

"There's bravery, too....dancing in front of the entire school like that."

_Like a medieval Lord of the Dance. _

"Um, okay. If you say so....You also have a strong desire to strangle your Uncle Rico."

"Well, duh! He was ruining our lives and eating all our steak!"

"Um....well....let's see....Ravenclaw is out of the question, there's no proof that you're pureblood, and those in Gryffindor....well, it wouldn't be a good fit for you, so it looks like you're a HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Sweet!" Napoleon set the Hat on the stool and ran over to the Hufflepuff table. The Hufflepuffs looked at each other in a mixture of confusion and desperation, then burst into a round of tentative applause.

* * *

_Anyone who hasn't seen _Napoleon Dynamite _needs to go watch it RIGHT NOW. You will laugh, I guarantee it. _


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Alex checked the reviews for his story as soon as he got home from school.

_Interesting concept--Napoleon Dynamite goes to Hogwarts. Realistically handled, too. _

Well, duh. Everyone at Hogwarts would think Napoleon was awesome!

_Dude, the Hufflepuffs' reaction to having Napoleon sorted into their house was AWESOME. Totally what I would do if I were a Hufflepuff. _

Hufflepuff? No, Napoleon was Sorted into Gryffindor. Alex made a mental note to set that guy straight once he got through the rest of his reviews.

_lololololol!!!!! this is amazing! _

_awesome! i would be wierded out if napolean was sorted into my house, to! _

Weirded out? No, Napoleon was in Gryffindor and all the Gryffindors thought he was awesome. That's the way he wrote it, and that's the way it was.

_I never would have pictured Napoleon in Hufflepuff, but it fits! Hilarious first chapter! _

Frowning, Alex decided to check out his story. His stomach dropped. It was just like the reviewers had said: Napoleon Dynamite was in Hufflepuff, and all of the Hufflepuffs were disappointed and a little scared.

What was going on here?

* * *

"Have you met the new guy yet?" Fred asked.

"No," Harry said. "He seems sort of weird." He had planned to decode the song lyrics with Ron and Hermione after school, but conversation about Napoleon Dynamite had overshadowed any plans he might have had.

"I take it _you've_ met him," Hermione said.

"Of course," George said. "He's awesome."

"In a weird sort of a way," Fred added.

"What year is he?"

"Sixth."

"Oh, so he doesn't have to take the OWLs."

"He probably already took them," Hermione reasoned. "I wonder what school he transferred from."

"Who cares?" Ron said. "I'm just glad he's not in Gryffindor."

* * *

"Really."

"Yes! It makes perfect sense."

"No, not really." Katie rummaged through the fridge until she found a soda. "They're just characters, Leese. It's not like they're real people."

"But what if they _are_? What if they're real and they don't like your--I mean our--stories, so they're writing them the way _they _think they should be written?"

Katie took a sip of her soda. "It'd make perfect sense if they were real."

Liesel leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "There. See?"

"But we don't_ know _they're real. For all I know, you really _did _edit my songfic and you're just trying to cover your tracks."

Liesel sighed, looking at the floor for a long moment. "Okay.....maybe we should test it. Send someone into Hogwarts and see if it works."

"You don't mean we should write a Mary Sue fic."

"No, self-insert. There's a difference."

Katie considered this for a moment, then set her soda on the counter. "Fine. I nominate you." No way she was going to ruin her own reputation with a thinly veiled Mary Sue fic.

"Fine." Liesel crossed to the computer and began writing.

* * *

Draco was on his way back to Slytherin, walking by memory, lost in thought. First he broke up with Pansy, then that song made everyone think he and Potter were dating, and now an American transfer student who happened to be the weirdest person Draco had ever met.

Something was definitely up.

Maybe it was something in the water that made everyone act like idiots. Or maybe it was one of Dumbledore's insane plans, or a trick from the Dark Lord, or--

"Oops! Sorry...."

He stumbled back a step, hot color flooding his cheeks. He had bumped into a girl--a rather pretty one--knocking her over and scattering her books all over the corridor.

"I'm sorry," he said, bending over and gathering up as many books as he could get his hands on. "Wasn't watching where I was going."

"Oh, no, it's my fault," she said, and Draco heard an American accent clear as anything. "I wasn't watching either...."

They reached for the same book at the same time, and their fingers touched. They looked up at the same moment, and Draco got a good look at her face. Fair skin, blond hair, blue eyes, a few freckles. He knew he had never seen her before. She smiled sheepishly, yanked the book away from him, and stood as if desperate to leave.

"Sorry again," she said.

"Uh, yeah....sorry....Hey, what's your name?" He wanted to see if she was another transfer student McGonagall had announced but forgotten to introduce.

"Liesel," she said. "I, uh, I've gotta run. See you later!" With that, she took off down the hall, leaving Draco even more confused than he had been to start with.

* * *

Liesel drew her hand from the keyboard as if withdrawing from a hot stove. "Woah...."

Katie looked at her intently. "So it worked."

Liesel swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. It was so cool! It was like I was actually there!"

"I think you were."

"What do you mean?"

Katie hesitated. "While you were writing....I didn't see you here."

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

"You don't really think we got another transfer student, do you?"

"What other explanation is there? I heard her accent, Theo. Nobody here talks like that." They sat in the Slytherin common room, trying to concentrate on their mountain of homework after classes. All the strange goings-on at Hogwarts, however, proved too strong a distraction.

Theodore Nott scanned his book and scribbled something on a piece of parchment. "Wouldn't McGonagall have introduced her this morning along with...what was his name?"

"Napoleon Dynamite."

"That's it. I knew it was weird."

"Yeah. Like him."

"You've met him?"

"Do I need to? I already know he's weird."

"Good point. So...back to Possible Transfer Student...what was her name?"

"Liesel."

"Surname?"

"She didn't say." He sighed. "Maybe McGonagall will introduce her tomorrow."

* * *

"This is amazing!" Liesel paced the floor in front of her computer. "I mean, I was actually there, in Hogwarts!"

"What'd you see?"

Liesel stopped pacing for a moment and frowned. "Not a whole lot. I wasn't there all that long. I'm pretty sure I ran into Draco Malfoy....and I saw someone who looked _exactly _like Napoleon Dynamite.....but like I said, not a ton."

Katie shook her head in amazement. "Wow."

"Yeah. Wow. Do you know what this means?"

"Um....you can go to Hogwarts?"

"Not only that--we can do _anything_! We could turn Dumbledore into a monkey if we wanted to! Heck, we could turn _Voldemort _into a monkey!"

Katie swung herself up over the back of the couch, her eyes gleaming. "Let's do it, then."

* * *

Hufflepuffs prided themselves on being friendly to everyone but Slytherins. So when Napoleon Dynamite was transferred into their House, they did their best to get to know him. Normal conversation with Napoleon, however, proved almost as difficult as getting Professor Snape to dress up in a tutu and do the Chicken Dance.

Susan Bones swallowed nervously. "So...um....where are you from, Napoleon?"

Napoleon folded his arms across his chest and gave a derisive snort. "Idaho."

"And...where's that?"

"USA."

Hannah Abbot jumped in while Susan tried to think of another question. "What school did you transfer from?"

Another derisive snort from Napoleon. "Some lame high school."

"Uh-huh. And...what do you do there?"

He shrugged. "Homework. I did a report on endangered animals the other day. I did it on ligers because they're like my favorite animal. But they gave me an F! Said ligers don't exist!" He sat back in the armchair with a soft _thud_. "So lame."

Hannah and Susan looked at each other in confusion, then at Napoleon. "Um, what's a liger?"

"It's a cross between a lion and a tiger. Duh."

The two girls looked at each other again, then stood and left in opposite directions.

* * *

_Going up against Dumbledore and his Order is like playing chess with a master. They're smart. They're tough to beat. But they're predictable. Going up against Potter and his friends, on the other hand, is a lot like playing tag with a four-year-old. They like to win, and they like to change the rules. _

Melinda Peters reread what she'd written, frowned, then continued writing. It sounded like something Voldemort would say. Too much like something he'd say. But that was the point of a story written from his perspective, wasn't it?

When she'd started writing this story, she had felt a little apprehensive. Voldemort, after all, had precious few passages in the series written from his perspective--unless, of course, you counted the brief paragraphs in _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows _where Harry viewed events from inside Voldemort's head.

Her fanfic had turned out to be easier than she'd expected. Once she had gotten into the zone, the story had virtually written itself. Reviews had been positive, coming from readers who enjoyed a new perspective.

Melinda smiled. If they liked the new perspective now, just wait until they saw the surprise ending.

* * *

_Will the Hufflepuffs ever accept Napoleon as one of their own? Will Katie and Liesel ever succeed in turning Voldemort into a monkey? And what is Melinda's surprise ending? (More importantly, does it involve dancing tubas?) _

_Find out in the next chapter....._

_(Sorry. Couldn't resist.) _


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

When Jacob Marsden returned from work, he wasn't surprised to see Liesel and Katie sitting at the computer. Nor was he surprised to see them giggling like mental ward outpatients. He was, however, morbidly curious to hear what was so funny.

"What're you two giggling about?"

The two girls jumped and turned. Liesel wore a devious grin. "We just wrote a montage of Voldemort doing stupid stuff set to 'You're Pitiful'."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "That's all?" Katie and Liesel had written funnier stories--some unintentionally so.

Katie wore the same devious grin as Liesel. "Yeah. Only it's really happening! That's what's so funny!"

Jacob blinked. "It...what?"

"It's really happening!" Liesel said. "Voldemort's real and it's all happening to him!"

Jacob shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. Liesel had gone off the deep end. His sweet little sister had finally lost her mind, surrendered it to mindless fanfiction. "Erm, okay. You just, uh, keep writing, Leese." He went into the kitchen and started flipping through the phone book, looking for the nearest psychiatrist.

Liesel turned back to the story, realized what her brother was doing, and hurried into the kitchen. Even though she already knew, she figured she might as well ask. "Jake, what're you doing?"

"Nothing," he said.

Liesel rested her arms on the counter. "You wouldn't happen to be looking for shrink, would you?"

His blue eyes met hers briefly, then went back to scanning the yellow pages. "Yes."

"We-ell....I don't need one."

"Whatever you say."

"What if I told you I could prove to you I'm not crazy?"

He paused, then looked at her. "Do you still think Voldemort is real?"

"I know he is."

"Then you're crazy."

She sighed and went back into the living room. "Fine then. I'll _prove _I'm right."

* * *

Voldemort sat in an elaborately carved wooden chair, bald head in his spidery hands, trying to think past the music pounding in his ears.

_You're pitiful  
You're pitiful  
You're pitiful, it's true...._

Not only did someone out there think he was pitiful, but they felt the need to get an annoying song stuck in his head to prove it--one that he couldn't get rid of no matter how hard he tried.

_Never had a date  
That you couldn't inflate  
And you smell repulsive, too_

Repulsive? Lord Voldemort did _not _smell repulsive! That talent was reserved for Fenrir Greyback and Crabbe and Goyle--Greyback because he was a werewolf and Crabbe and Goyle because they always tried to eat the deodorant Voldemort gave them.

_What a bummer being you _

Voldemort leapt to his feet. "I am _not _pitiful and none of your foul Muggle songs will make me so!"

"Is something wrong, my lord?"

Voldemort turned and froze at the sight of a rather confused Lucius Malfoy. He thought about saying no, nothing is wrong, back to work, but caught himself when he realized that Lucius might be able to help him. He did have a near-encyclopedic knowledge of pointless but useful spells, after all. Perhaps one of them could help him.

"Do you have any idea of how to get an annoying song out of one's head?"

_Well, you just can't dance_

Malfoy's confusion deepened. "A...song, my lord?"

_And forget romance_

"Yes, a song. One I have never heard before, and one that refuses to leave my head."

_Everybody you know still calls you "Farty Pants" _

"Have you tried Occlumency?"

"Of course I have!" Voldemort snapped. "Don't you think I've tried every possible cure known to man?" There was a long, tense silence, then he closed his eyes and shook his head. "It won't leave me alone," he whispered.

_But you'll always have a job--well, I mean  
As long as you still can work that Slurpee machine_

"How....how long has this gone on?"

"All day." He drew a breath, trying to block out the lyrics as they came. "All...day....long."

Lucius frowned, trying to think of a suggestion that might help his master--and avoid getting him blamed for the current problem. But all thoughts of songs and plans to stop them vanished in the next instant when a sandy-haired young man appeared by the window. Seeing Voldemort, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. For a long moment, all three men seemed too surprised to move.

"Uh....where....I....um....you.....you're Voldemort!"

The sound of his own name shook Voldemort to his senses. He raised his wand threateningly. "Tell me who you are!"

The young man swallowed. "Uh....no can do. Sorry."

"In that case, _Cruc--" _

He vanished before Voldemort could finish the curse, and the curse shattered the window behind where he had once stood. Voldemort and Lucius stared at it for a long moment.

"I want you to find out who he is," Voldemort said at last. "I don't care how, I just want him _found." _

Lucius could tell he meant it.

* * *

A few keystrokes from Katie and Liesel and Jacob reappeared in the apartment. Both girls grinned.

"So what did you see?" Katie said.

"A bald guy with red eyes, by any chance?"

Jacob swallowed, hands on his knees, breathing heavily, then looked up at Liesel. "YOU SENT ME TO VOLDEMORT?!"

"Now you know he exists."

"YOU COULD'VE GOTTEN ME KILLED!"

"Well, you're still alive, aren't you?" Jacob said nothing, still glaring at her. Liesel shrugged. "Relax. It's not like he can come after us."

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

After publishing Chapter Two of _Harry Potter and the American Transfer Student, _Alex went online to see if it had been changed again. Sure enough, the final published version looked nothing like the draft he had published. Not only did the Hufflepuffs think Napoleon was weird, but Draco Malfoy had run into another American student named Liesel, who had vanished soon afterward.

Alex frowned. Liesel? That was a _name_?

"Hey Mom?" he called. "Is Liesel a name?"

"Yes, it's a name." She sounded annoyed.

Okay. Liesel really _was_ a name. But where had she come from? He could Google it, but how many people named Liesel were there? And without a surname, a Google search was pretty much useless.

He took a bite of his Pop Tart and began working on Chapter Three.

* * *

Draco kept his eyes open for Liesel, but it turned out to be pointless. She wasn't at breakfest, lunch or dinner the next day, and although he guessed her age to be about fifteen, he didn't see her in any of his classes. McGonagall didn't mention her and neither Umbridge nor Snape complained about her.

He decided to put Liesel aside and focus on a more important question: Who was going to die? Every chance he got, he sat in the Slytherin common room or the library with Theodore, trying to decode the song.

"Okay....fashion statement suicide. Maybe that means whoever it is is going to kill themselves?"

An almost imperceptible wince crossed Theodore's face, and Draco knew his less-than-stellar grammar was to blame. "Erm....maybe. Or maybe it's their trying to be unique that gets them killed? I mean, it does say 'kill yourself slowly over time'."

Draco sucked on his quill. "Maybe.....actually, that makes a lot of sense."

Harry glanced around the library before sitting down at their table. "What've you got so far?" he whispered.

"Not much. We still don't know who it is."

"Ron thinks it's someone who's making a bunch of bad choices right now--you know, 'kill yourself slowly over time'?"

"Yeah, that's what we got. And I think it's going to be an accident, since it says 'is this another death by misadventure'."

"Makes sense." Draco glanced both ways, then met Harry's gaze. "You'd, uh, you'd better get out of here. Y'know, in case somebody comes in."

"Yeah. Tell me if you figure it out." He stood and left the libarary, leaving Draco and Theodore to ponder the meaning of the song.

* * *

After work, Melinda sat down in front of her computer to check out the reviews for her story.

_Woah! Freaky plot twist! _

Freaky plot twist? What freaky plot twist? There weren't supposed to be any plot twists until the end of _Deathly Hallows, _and Melinda hadn't even gotten through _Order of the Phoenix _yet.

_were did that guy come from? howd he know Voldiekins? update soon!!! _

Melinda frowned and checked out the final version of the latest chapter. Sure enough, halfway through Voldemort and Lucius' conversation, a blond man suddenly appeared by the window and vanished before he could be Cruciated.

_I didn't write this! _

She stood and paced. Who could have changed it? _How _could they have changed it? Maybe someone had hacked into her account and edited the story...but _why_? What could they possibly gain from changing her story?

After a few minutes of pacing, Melinda headed to the small kitchen in her apartment and began making dinner. She needed some time to think of a plan.

* * *

After several days, Harry and Ron were no closer to an interpretation than Draco and Theodore were. As he and Ron sat in the Gryffindor common room one day, he happened to look up just as Hermione passed. In a fit of desperation, Ron stopped her.

"Hey, Mione? You wouldn't happen to know anyone who's been making a lot of bad choices lately, would you?"

Taken aback, she frowned. "I can think of a few. Why?"

"Because Malfoy and I both heard the same song--one about somebody dying--and we think it might be someone we know," Harry said.

"But they don't know who it's talking about, so we're trying to look at the song for clues," Ron said.

Hermione sat down next to them and turned the song so it was facing her. Several lines were filled in with question marks--she guessed it was because neither Harry nor Malfoy could remember the lyrics--but the overall meaning of the song was clear. Someone was going to die.

She read the song several times, then looked up. "I have no idea. I mean, I think I might know, but...." With a sigh, she stood. "I'll tell you when I come up with something."

* * *

Liesel went over her songfic once more before asking her brother to read it. Jacob went over it, the memory of his confrontation with Voldemort still fresh in his mind. When he was done, he looked up. "It's good."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, it's really good. Fits Sirius really well. I was just thinking, though...."

"What?"

"You think it's smart to publish it? I mean, since the characters are apparently real and they'll be able to hear it, wouldn't Sirius you know....get wind of his death before it happened?"

Liesel hadn't thought about that. She frowned, thinking. "Would it matter? I mean, the song's pretty vague." She didn't add that saving Sirius' life wouldn't be such a bad side effect of her fic.

Jacob shrugged. "Publish it if you want to."

"You don't think I should?"

He stood. "I don't know. Just think about it, 'kay?"

Liesel sat down. "Okay." She hesitated a few minutes before hitting the "New Story" button.

* * *

Sirius Black was sitting at home, doing nothing in particular, when a song entered his mind out of nowhere.

_Burning down Neverland, scatter the ashes  
White lines, black tar the matches  
Is this another death by misadventure?  
Tell me what you got, what you really got  
Hey, hey! _

Sirius broke out in a cold sweat. He felt a strange sense of forboding and didn't know why.

* * *

With no older brother to make her question her decision, Katie published her songfic the minute she was done editing. Harry's thoughts after Draco joins Voldemort set to Anberlin's Godspeed....brilliant idea, if she did say so herself.

* * *

That night, Harry awoke to the same song he'd heard the other day. His stomach had twisted into knots, and he couldn't stop worrying about Draco.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

Harry waited all day for an opportunity to meet with Draco alone. About twenty minutes before curfew, he saw him walking the opposite direction in one of the corridors. Without hesitation, Harry grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the nearest boys' bathroom.

"I need to talk to you."

Draco looked around nervously before looking at Harry again. "Don't tell me you're actually in love with me."

"No. But either someone is trying to set us up, or something bad is going to happen to you soon."

"Wh-why do you say that?"

Harry let go of his arm and paced the bathroom restlessly. "Because you know that song we've been hearing lately--about someone dying? Well, I've been hearing it all day long and I can't stop worrying about you."

Any other day, Draco would have thought of this as an I'm-madly-in-love-with-you speech. "You've been hearing it too?" He drew a deep breath. "Yeah, last night I woke up to that song and I couldn't stop thinking about the Dark Lord."

Harry looked up at him, frowning. "The...you mean....You-Know-Who?"

"No, the other Dark Lord. Yes, You-Know-Who. I couldn't stop thinking about him--mostly what might happen if...."

"If what?"

He hesitated a long moment, reluctant to share one of his most recent fears with Harry. "If I joined him," he finally whispered.

Harry looked at him curiously. In some ways, he had always thought of Malfoy as a future Death Eater, but the way he said it now surprised him. "You don't want to?"

"What, you always thought I did?" Harry looked away. Draco sighed. "Look, just because it's sort of in the family doesn't mean I have to like it or plan on doing it. If shaving your head every December and running through the halls naked screaming HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! was a family tradition of yours, would you want to do it?"

"Probably not."

"Well, now you see how I feel." He braced himself against the wall with both arms, looking at the floor. "Ever since he came back, I've sort of been hoping it'd all just....you know...."

"Blow over?"

"Yeah. Blow over. That You-Know-Who'd get bored or something and head off to Siberia or the US or Canada before he remembered I exist." He gave a harsh laugh. "Guess that's not going to happen, the way things are looking."

Harry was quiet for a long time. When he spoke, he chose his words carefully. "Maybe that's why we've been hearing that song. It sort of makes sense now--fashion statement suicide and all that. Maybe....maybe we've been hearing it so you can avoid it."

"Yeah. Don't know how."

Harry shrugged. "We'll figure something out."

* * *

Melinda went back to her story the next day. After trying unsuccessfully to change it, she gave up and began working on the next chapter. She would find some way to work the mysterious stranger into her story. Maybe he could be a spy from the Order.

_An American spy? _

No, on second thought, probably not. Maybe he was an American who had heard about Voldemort.

_Voldemort has a fan club?_

If he did, Bellatrix Lestrange was probably the only member, not counting all of Rowling's readers who secretly cheered for Voldemort to win and felt a little bitter when Harry beat him. He was the most powerful wizard in Britain, and he got defeated by a _kid_? What the hell?

Pushing plans for the American out of her mind for now, Melinda began to write.

* * *

"Have you found any sign of the American yet?"

"No, my lord. We're still looking, though."

"All right." Voldemort sighed in frustration. "You said your home was secure."

"It was! I have no idea how he got past all the spells we put up."

Voldemort looked as if he was about to say something--perhaps to berate Lucius for his lack of competence--but didn't. "Keep looking," he finally said and left.

Lucius sank into a chair at the dining room table and went over what he knew.

1. The American had shown up out of nowhere.  
2. Although he seemed to know the Dark Lord's name, he refused to give his.  
3. His description didn't seem to match that of anyone anybody knew, but Lucius was reasonably certain he would recognize him if given the chance.

It wasn't much. In most situations, this little information wouldn't even be enough to warrant a good start. But if an American knew about the Dark Lord, he might know more--things about the Order, perhaps, or Death Eater secrets that needed to stay secret.

With a sigh, Lucius stood. Maybe Narcissa would have some new ideas.

* * *

When Alex reread his story this time, it sounded like nothing he had ever written. Harry and Draco were working on a plan to keep Draco from joining Voldemort, and there was still no sign of Liesel. What was more, the Hufflepuffs still hadn't fully accepted Napoleon as one of their own. In their defense, Napoleon _was _sort of weird.

Shaking his head to clear it, Alex began work on the next chapter. Maybe Napoleon could help them tie up some of the loose ends.

Alex hoped so, because he had no idea what was going on.

* * *

Draco was eating lunch, absorbed in melancholy thoughts of the Dark Lord and his own less-than-stellar family legacy, when he sensed someone standing behind him. He turned, craned his neck, and found himself looking into the face of Napoleon Dynamite.

"Are you having a killer time?"

Draco looked from Napoleon to his fellow Slytherins and saw that they were all just as confused as he was. "Uh....no...not really, no."

"Oh." Napoleon looked at the floor for a minute. "So you guys are in Slytherin?"

"Yeah...."

"Dude, isn't that the House You-Know-Who is from?"

He bristled at the reminder. "That's what I've been told."

"So, are you, like, his fan club or something?"

Draco was on his feet in an instant, holding Napoleon by his tie. "We are _not _his fanclub," he said quietly but intently, "and if you think we are, you're even more ignorant than the rest of them, and I will personally...." He trailed off before he finished his threat when he saw that the entire Hall was staring at him. The Slytherins looked most surprised.

He released Napoleon and glared at him before sitting down again. Everyone else quickly averted their eyes and returned to their lunches.

Draco ate as quickly as he could and fairly ran out of the Great Hall.

* * *

After Liesel went to bed, Jacob got on the computer and took a look at the fanfics she and Katie had uploaded lately. Although he pretended indifference most of the time, there were a few fics he liked. One in particular, called _Lord Voldemort and the Rather Annoying Boy, _was one of the most interesting stories on the site. Not only was the idea of an entire story told from Voldemort's perspective fascinating, but the writing was fantastic.

Halfway through, he was frowning and scratching his head. The author, Mira the Impaler, had somehow found out about his encounter with Voldemort and had written it into her story. Not only that, but now Voldemort had all his Death Eaters looking for him.

Jacob suddenly found it hard to breathe. Not only was one of the most powerful wizards in Magical Britain _real_, but he also happened to be looking for him. He remembered what Liesel had said just that afternoon_--"It's not like he can come after us." _

He had never been more certain of anything, and he was certain she was wrong.

* * *

Lucius bowed respectfully. "My lord."

Voldemort didn't look up from his spellbook. "What is it, Lucius?"

"I believe I've found the key to the American."

He still sounded doubtful. "And what might that be?"

He took a deep breath, hands clasped behind his back. He was so excited he could hardly stand still. "It has come to my attention that an American transfer student has recently been admitted to Hogwarts."

Voldemort looked up. "What is his name?"

"Napoleon Dynamite."

"House?"

"Hufflepuff." He continued before Voldemort could object. "You and I are both aware that Hufflepuffs have never been the brightest, and from what I hear, this one seems exceptionally dumb."

"Why should I care about one stupid Hufflepuff, Lucius?"

"The stupid ones talk, my lord. They often don't know when to shut up."

"And how would that help us? What could he possibly know?"

Lucius couldn't help smiling. "From what I understand, he too came to Hogwarts out of nowhere with only the most tenuous of justifications--like the American we saw the other day. Perhaps he knows more than we think he does."

Voldemort smiled as well, a cold, calculating smile. "Well, then. I suppose we'll have to arrange a meeting with this...Napoleon Dynamite, now won't we?"

Lucius nodded, feeling the first surge of excitement since first spotting the mysterious American. "Yes, my lord."

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

_Anyone who has read my story _The Hogwarts Blog _knows this, but I'll explain this for everyone who hasn't: I'm not technically allowed to read Harry Potter. My parents don't know I read the books, so I therefore don't own any of them. Because of this, I can't go to my bookshelf, hunt down OOTP, find the chapter I need, and copy it down word-for-word. So don't sue me because I skipped all the scenes that describe how Harry escapes from Hogwarts and gets to the Ministry of Magic. _

_And I know I'm skipping the twins' departure. It's not because I hated that part of the book or anything; on the contrary, I loved it. I just can't figure out a way to make it relevant to this story, so I'm skipping it. _

* * *

For the next few weeks, it was business as usual at Hogwarts. The fifth years spent most of their time cramming for their OWLs, leaving Harry and Draco little free time to ponder life, death, and You-Know-Who. Draco was somewhat grateful for the diversion; after all, existential despair and a career-determining test didn't mix very well. For a few weeks, he could almost forget that someone out there expected him to continue the Malfoy family legacy.

Then came the History of Magic test.

Students from all four Houses tested together, which meant that Draco was there when Harry fell to the floor, screaming and clutching his scar in agony. He watched as the moderators gathered around him, his unease growing as Harry bolted from the room a few minutes later. He tried to sit still, to concentrate on his test, but the air seemed to grow hotter and closer until Draco could hardly breathe. He scribbled down a few answers, reminded himself that History of Magic was pointless, and left with the excuse that he had finished his test.

Harry was in the corridor, flanked by Ron and Hermione. "What happened?"

He swallowed. "It's Sirius," he said. "I saw Sirius."

Draco frowned. "Sirius Black?"

"He's not a murderer," Hermione said quietly. "He was framed."

He didn't know what to do with this information but believe it, so he didn't protest. "What about Sirius?"

"He's in trouble. I...I think he's who else that song was talking about."

* * *

Not too long later, a small group of thestrals bearing several students landed in front of the Ministry of Magic. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna and Neville dismounted in silence. Draco almost said something about how uncomfortable riding a thestral was, but all complaints seemed insignificant compared to what they had come to accomplish.

"Bye, invisible horses," Napoleon called to the thestrals he couldn't see. Several voices shushed him.

"Why'd he come along again?" Draco whispered to Harry as they entered the Ministry.

"I just had a feeling we'd need him. Besides, we couldn't leave him behind."

Draco nodded, sighing heavily. Napoleon had seen Harry and Hermione returning from the Forest without Umbridge, and leaving him behind would have meant the entire school would be after them soon. Still, he wasn't exactly what Draco would call an asset. His father would probably classify him as a 'liability.'

They checked into the Ministry and soon all wore badges saying RESCUE MISSION. They drew their wands and crowded into the lifts that took them down to the ninth level, the Department of Mysteries. The lift stopped, and they all got off, looking around. A single plain hallway before them led to a plain black door.

Napoleon stared. "Dude, something in there?"

"Sirius, I hope." Harry started for the door, ignoring Hermione protesting that it might be a trap.

"Sweet!" Harry was the first to walk through the door; Napoleon was second. They found themselves in a large circular room that revolved once, shifting the position of the doors. They tried one at random; it contained several tanks in which brains floated. Napoleon tried to touch one and Luna pulled him back.

No Sirius.

They tried another door. This one was dark and full of planets.

Still no Sirius.

When the circular room revolved again, Napoleon picked the door. This one was locked. He slammed his shoulder against the door and got only a large bruise. Harry tried his penknife and the blade melted.

The next time they picked a door, the room was full of dazzling light. Clocks covered every wall, clocks of every type. Dozens of Time-Turners stood at one end, and beyond them was a door. They pushed the door, and it opened.

Beyond this door was a large, rectangular room lined with rows and rows of glass orbs. Blue flames lit the room, giving each orb an eerie glow. Harry led the way, ducking and weaving between the rows.

"Sirius?"

Toward the far end of the room, Row 97, Harry found a name that looked familiar: Harry Potter.

A prophecy. _His_ prophecy. His heart pounded and he reached out. Touched it.

No sooner had his fingers closed around it than a drawling voice behind them said "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Everyone turned. Draco smiled sheepishly.

"H-hi Dad! What're you doing here?"

* * *

Melinda withdrew her hands from the keyboard as if burned. She was breathing heavily and her heart was thudding away.

This scene in the Ministry....it had felt so real while she wrote it. Now she had the feeling that there was more at stake than a good chapter, and she almost didn't want to keep writing.

Something beyond her control compelled her, and she began typing away, faster this time.

_C'mon, Voldemort! You can do it! _

* * *

_I know that wasn't exactly my best writing, but I had very little source material to work with. And by that, I mean all I had was inadequate online summaries. The next chapters will be better, I promise. _


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

Lucius' eyes widened beneath his hood. "Draco?"

He laughed nervously. "Uh...hi."

"Draco, what are you doing here?" The way he said it, Draco knew he meant 'What are you doing here helping Potter?'

"What're _you _doing here?" He knew the answer to the question before he asked: Waiting for Potter. His stomach slowly twisted into a knot as he realized they'd walked right into a trap. He looked at everyone else in their little group nervously, hoping someone had suddenly come up with a plan. From the looks on their faces, everyone was just as surprised as he was. After a long, tense moment of silence, Lucius looked to Harry again.

"Hand it over, Potter."

Harry backed away slowly. "You know, I'd rather not."

"It's not really a matter of _wanting_," another voice behind him said. "It's more a matter of 'hand it over or we'll kill you'."

He swallowed, looking around frantically for a way to escape. The towering shelves of glass orbs gave him an idea. "We're going to break these," he whispered to Hermione, who happened to be closest.

"I mean _now_, Potter," Lucius said. "Just give it to me--"

"When I say go...."

"Hand it over, Potter."

"NOW!" Everyone but Napoleon pointed their wands and cried "Reducto!" The rows nearest fell first, toppling others like dominoes in a line. Glass shattered and pearl-white figures rose into the air, their prophecies mingling into senseless chatter.

"RUN!" No one but Napoleon needed to be told, but he shouted it anyway.

* * *

"Leese, come look at this."

"What is it?" She didn't need to ask and Jacob didn't need to answer; she had already sat down at the computer and seen that it was the latest chapter of _Lord Voldemort and the Rather Annoying Boy. _

"Read it."

She did, and she looked up at Jacob when she finished. "Weird."

"More than weird--Leese, I think _you _changed it somehow."

"Me?"

"I don't know how. I'm just saying....maybe....I don't know."

Liesel didn't know either, and she sat at the computer for a long time. "Maybe I'm supposed to help change it. About Sirius, I mean."

Jacob was silent for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. "Change it then."

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange held Napoleon by the collar, a wand to his throat. "Give us the prophecy or he dies!"

"Don't do it, Harry," Draco whispered. Neville nodded, wiping blood from his broken nose.

Harry tried to breathe but found it difficult. The only way out seemed a sadistic choice: Give Voldemort a prophecy that could let him win, or let Napoleon die. His fingers whitened on the prophecy and he slowly raised his arm. Lucius stepped forward, reached out for the prophecy.

"Let him go, Bellatrix!"

Everyone turned. Several Order members stood at the top of the benches.

* * *

Melinda was thirsty, but she didn't dare get up. She had the feeling that if she stood, if she stopped typing for one moment, everything she had planned would unravel. Everything would happen as it had in the books. Voldemort would win this battle but quite literally lose the war.

She had never before realized how much she hated that ending.

* * *

Draco watched from a safe distance as Sirius and Bellatrix dueled. Sparks flew from both wands, and neither seemed able to touch the other. Suddenly, he heard a familiar guitar solo, followed by the lyrics he knew too well:

_Burning down Neverland, scatter the ashes  
White lines, black tar the matches  
Is this another death by misadventure?  
Tell me what you got, what you really got  
Hey, hey!_

Sirius was going to die, and soon. This duel with Bellatrix would kill him, Draco realized, and then somehow he would end up joining the Dark Lord.

_We'll rest in our graves  
Lexington course your veins_

He had to save Sirius. Save Sirius, save yourself, he decided. His heart raced, and he slowly stood to his feet.

_Sleepers can't just wake the dead  
When needles and lovers collapse on guilty beds_

_How is he going to die? _If only Draco could anticipate Bellatrix's next move, take away her wand, pull Sirius away from that veil--

_The veil! _That was it! That was how Sirius was going to die!

_(Fall asleep) Don't fall asleep  
(Fall asleep) Don't fall asleep_

Draco didn't have time to think through his plan, so he didn't. Without thinking, he bolted.

_Don't fall asleep  
They lied when they said that the good die young _

He was too far; there was no way he would make it in time--

_They lied when they said the good die young  
Stay with me, stay with me tonight_

--he was halfway there, he might make it after all--

_They lied when they said the good die young_

--he was almost there--

_Stay with me, stay with me tonight_

Bellatrix screamed and Draco grunted as he slammed his full weight into her side, knocking her to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, snatched up her wand, drew his own and pointed both at Bellatrix.

"Touch him and die, got it?"

His hair was touseled, his clothes were torn and he was breathing heavily. Blood from a small cut trickled down his cheek. None of the Death Eaters, least of all Bellatrix, believed he could kill her. But none of them, least of all Bellatrix, doubted he would try.

For a long moment nobody moved. Sirius slowly got to his feet and stood by Draco.

"I think it might be safe to leave," he whispered and jerked his head toward the entrance. It was only then that Draco noticed Dumbledore.

* * *

_Yes, I left out some details. Thanks to Half-Blood Metamorphmagus, I found a site that gave me the actual text for that chapter, so I knew the general order of events. But I figured you had all read the book and didn't want to read it again, and I really didn't feel like typing out an entire chapter just so I could change one event. So I didn't. Yay laziness. _


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

Melinda reread the chapter she had just written and frowned. Sirius lived? But his death was so... so _necessary. _If Sirius lived, the entire series would fall apart.

_Only in Rowling's world. You're writing your own story._

The thought struck her out of nowhere, and she smiled. _All right, Sirius, _she thought. _You can live to fight another day. _

With that, she began writing.

* * *

When Voldemort arrived, it looked like all the chaos was dying down. This would have been a good thing, had it been in his favor. The scene that greeted him was anything but favorable: Dumbledore had arrived and was trying to round up his Death Eaters--_like herding cats_, Voldemort thought wryly--Potter was standing proudly between Sirius Black and Draco Malfoy, of all people, and all three were closing in on Bellatrix.

Suddenly, Potter dropped his wand and fell to the floor, clutching his scar in agony. Voldemort smiled to himself. _Yes, Potter. I'm nearby. Behind you, in fact. _

He wasn't _actually _behind Potter--more to the left of him--but saying 'I'm right behind you' to your mortal enemy had a certain ring to it. "Hello, Harry Potter," he said.

"_You_!"

_Of course it's me, you twit! Who else would be standing right behind you? _"Yes, it's me." He raised his wand, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed Dumbledore, who was now just a few yards away. Voldemort spun around, wand now pointed at Dumbledore.

"Leave him alone, Tom."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the mention of his old name, but he said nothing. Dumbledore had always called him Tom, and he would probably never stop. "_Avada--_"

Dumbledore didn't speak, but the spell he cast made Voldemort stumble backward and stopped the Unforgivable in its tracks.

It was so on.

* * *

Sirius was alive and Draco probably wasn't going to join Voldemort, but the battle wasn't over yet. Liesel wasn't sure how it was all going to end, but she wrote furiously, desperately trying to reach an ending. Jacob stood behind her, reading over her shoulder.

"How come Voldemort isn't going after Harry?"

"Dunno. Maybe someone else tipped him off that that wouldn't be such a good idea."

She said it matter-of-factly, but the idea disturbed him. If another writer was out there helping Voldemort....

No, it was just the characters, he told himself. Dumbledore would win this one, no problem. There was a reason Rowling had called this chapter "The Only One He Ever Feared."

Then again, she _had_ gotten a few other details wrong.

* * *

Halfway through their duel, Voldemort got an idea: Why not possess Potter? Dumbledore wouldn't dare attack him, and it wouldn't be all that hard. No sooner had the idea struck, however, than he dismissed it. The risks far outweighed the benefits. He might as well keep dueling the geezer and take what came his way.

The geezer was a better duelist than Voldemort had remembered. The idea of possessing Harry was starting to look more attractive when the door opened and Cornelius Fudge burst into the room. The idiot wouldn't have meant anything to him, except for the fact that the idiot ran the Ministry of Magic.

Could this day get any worse?

* * *

Melinda reread what she'd written. At least her reasoning had kept Voldemort from possessing Harry. Why had he done that in the books, anyway? She guessed it was so Rowling could show what a terrible person he was, but still didn't see the point.

In this case, he hadn't done it, which showed wisdom on his part. Now all she had to do was come up with a way for him to escape the Ministry.

* * *

It wasn't a miracle that kept Voldemort from getting captured that day. It wasn't any feat of magic or physical strength that let him escape the Ministry. No, it was a combination of simple luck and quick thinking.

Sirius, who now had both his and Bellatrix's wands, was chasing his cousin around the room. Perhaps it was something about Azkaban that made her so fast, but he could never quite catch up to her long enough to finish a curse.

Coming full circle, Bellatrix saw Fudge come into the room just as it looked like Dumbledore was about to finish Voldemort off. She couldn't let him die or get captured, so she did the only logical thing that came to mind.

She ran.

That stupid Hufflepuff--Napoleon or whatever his name was--stood toward the edge of the room, so she ran over, grabbed his arm, and dragged him along as she ran full speed ahead toward the duel. She stopped abruptly, flinging Napoleon into the fray and stopping Dumbledore from firing the final curse.

That was all the distraction Voldemort needed. He took Napoleon in one hand and Bellatrix in the other, then Disapparated, leaving the Order members and what Death Eaters hadn't vanished already staring after him.

It was a long moment before anyone spoke. Dumbledore slowly turned and looked at Harry and his friends. He sighed deeply.

"We'd best get you home."

* * *

Voldemort had escaped with Bellatrix and Napoleon Dynamite. Napoleon would be no help, of course, but any interrogation with him would be entertaining.

Her work done, Melinda sat back for a moment, but some strange feeling urged her to keep writing, and with good reason, she soon discovered. Right now, Bellatrix was wondering how Voldemort had known what to do.

_"I thought you were going to kill Potter, my lord," _she was saying.

_"So did I. Some strange urging told me not to." _

_"Urging?" _

Urging? Melinda's heart raced. Was he talking about...._her_?

_Voldemort shook his head. "I'm not certain what it was. Something simply told me to attack Dumbledore instead. It was as though someone was next to me, telling me what to do--someone who could see the future." _

Yes. He was definitely talking about Melinda.

_Bellatrix frowned, considering this. "I suppose it's a good thing you listened, my lord." _

_Voldemort said nothing. He went over the experience once more, trying to see who the mysterious voice belonged to. But it was like looking through a fog; he could hear the voice but not see the owner. _

_Turning to Bellatrix once more, he jerked his head toward Napoleon. "Take him to the cellar. We'll interrogate him later." _

_Perhaps the Hufflepuff knew something he didn't. _

Rereading this, Melinda's heart raced until she thought it would burst. Voldemort wanted to talk to her. He wanted to find out who she was and how she knew what she did.

She stood and paced for a moment, then sat back down. If he wanted to find her, she would give him as much help as she could.

* * *

_FYI: Voldemort wanted Napoleon because he thought Napoleon (as an American) could tell him something about Jacob._

_And again, I know it's not how the book had it, but I AM changing a few things. _


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

The last few weeks of school passed in a blur of routine--wake up, eat, go to classes, go to bed. Immediately after returning to Hogwarts, Dumbledore had spoken to Harry and Draco in his office on separate occasions. He had told both boys the truth, truths he knew they wouldn't want to believe.

To Harry: The prophecy was made by Sybill Trelawney. When Voldemort killed your parents, he accidentally marked you as his equal. One of you has to die, for neither can live while the other survives. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, Harry. I'm so sorry.

To Draco: Before today, I was certain Voldemort was eyeing you as a future Death Eater. Now he's eyeing you as a potential target for Avada Kedavra. You are his enemy. He is wondering how much you know, and until things die down, you can't go home. Your mother can't know where you are. I'm sorry I can't help you, Draco. I'm so sorry.

After reinstating himself as Headmaster, Dumbledore watched the two boys and noticed a change. They were not madly in love, as some of the rumors would have him believe, but they were no longer enemies. He glimpsed them whispering in one of the corridors and saw them exchange glances on their way out of the Great Hall one morning. They entered the Leaving Feast together and half-smiled at each other before sitting at their House tables.

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were friends, or well on their way to becoming friends. He wondered how their Houses were taking_ that_.

* * *

"What were you doing at the Department of Mysteries?"

"I dunno."

"Why did you go with Potter and his friends?"

"They made me."

"Do you know what the Dark Lord wants with you?"

"How should I know?"

Narcissa Malfoy drew a deep breath and rubbed her temples. A week in the cellar had failed to crack Napoleon Dynamite, and this round of questioning had produced zero results. "Napoleon, please tell me something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know....anything. Make something up if you have to."

Silence. She looked up and saw she had confused him. Or maybe she hadn't. One thing she had learned rather quickly was that Napoleon Dynamite always looked confused, even when he wasn't. Or maybe he was always confused.

Narcissa rubbed her temples again. Now _she_ was confused.

"Napoleon." He looked at her, and she decided to tell him the truth. "Am I correct in thinking that you honestly know nothing?"

"Yeah."

She sighed deeply. "Okay then. The Dark Lord won't believe you. He's convinced you know more than you let on--which probably isn't much, but that hardly matters now. I need you to tell me something. I need you to make something up that _sounds_ interesting, that _sounds _like something he'd believe, because if you don't, he's going to send my sister down here to interrogate you. Do you know how she interrogates people?"

"Does she torture them?"

"Yes," Narcissa said, surprised he had guessed the truth so quickly. "I don't think you want that, do you?"

"You bet I don't."

"Well then." She stood and headed for the door. "I'll be back in an hour. When I come back, I'll expect you to have made something up that sounds convincing."

She closed the door and locked it, leaving Napoleon in darkness.

* * *

After the Leaving Feast, Dumbledore beckoned Draco over.

"I'm sorry to say your situation hasn't changed," he said.

Draco looked at the floor. "Figured as much."

"Since his name has officially been cleared, Sirius Black has offered to let you stay with him."

Draco looked up. "Why?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "You saved his life."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah. Guess I did."

"Is....is this all right with you?"

He shrugged. "Guess so."

Dumbledore smiled. "Good. I'll owl him right away."

* * *

Bellatrix watched Narcissa climb out of the cellar. "Well?"

"He does know something after all."

"Well, out with it! What does he know?"

Narcissa smiled. "I'd rather save it for the Dark Lord, if you don't mind."

* * *

Voldemort stood in front of the apartment building, staring at the well-kept hydrangea bushes and petunias that lined the cobblestone pathway. He checked his hood once more, making sure it covered his face so as not to alarm the Muggles.

Muggles. It seemed almost obscene to worry about them, but the woman Napoleon had mentioned lived in Muggle London. She obviously wasn't a Muggle--she simply lived among them--but alarming her neighbors seemed like a bad idea.

For the tenth time since leaving Malfoy Manor, Voldemort wondered if this was a trap. For the tenth time since leaving Malfoy Manor, he told himself it wasn't. Napoleon wouldn't lie. He was too dumb to lie. Not only that, but Narcissa had gotten the truth out of him. He hadn't yet told her about Draco, but for now he saw no reason not to trust her.

He entered the well-kept apartment building, found the stairs and slowly climbed them.

The woman's apartment was on the third floor, down a carpeted and well-lit hallway. Voldemort reasoned that this was a time for politeness, so he knocked and waited patiently. A dark-haired woman in her thirties opened the door a crack, peered out, then swung it wide and smiled.

"Hello there."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at her fearless manner. Most Muggles screamed and cowered when they saw him. "Have you been expecting me?"

"You could say that." She stepped aside. "If you'll come in, I'll explain everything."

He had nothing to lose, so he went inside.

* * *

_Explanations coming up...._


	14. Chapter 14

* * *

Voldemort followed the dark-haired woman inside, pushing back his hood as he did.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"Tea would be fine." He looked around. The apartment was spacious, tastefully decorated with a leather sofa and armchair, a glass coffee table, and colorful abstract oil paintings on the walls. A dark green area rug covered the beige carpet. This woman, whoever she was, obviously had money.

"Sit down wherever you want," she said, her back to him. When he didn't move, she laughed and faced him. "I'm not going to poison it, but thanks for asking."

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

"I'm good at guessing things like that." She poured two cups of tea and handed one to Voldemort, then led him into the living room. She sank into the armchair and guestured for him to sit on the sofa. "So," she said, sitting back, "I assume you came here because you have questions."

"Who are you?

"Melinda Peters. I'm an image consultant."

Voldemort frowned. "A what?"

"I tell people--professional people--what to do to get ahead. How to improve their images."

"How to win."

"Precisely."

One question down, ninety-nine to go. "So yours is the voice I've been hearing."

She sipped her tea. "Mmhmm."

"How?"

"It's...hard to explain." Melinda set her tea aside and stood. "I'll be right back." She left the room, returning a moment later with several thick volumes, which she handed to Voldemort. He scanned the titles_: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_. He looked at her in confusion.

"A woman named JK Rowling apparently discovered your world and wrote seven books chronicling the Second War. Each book covers a year of Harry's time at Hogwarts."

Voldemort opened _Order of the Phoenix,_ scanned a few sentences and went cold. Every detail of Harry's vision of Sirius Black was correct, and he wondered how many more secrets this Rowling woman had published.

"_Deathly Hallows _is the last one in the series," Melinda said, answering his question. "It tells how the war ends--who wins, who loses, who dies."

"Who dies?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Melinda hesitated. "You do."

He swallowed. "When?"

"About two years from now, in your world."

An awkward silence hung between them. After a moment, Melinda cleared her throat. "During Harry's sixth year, Dumbledore tells him about your horcruxes, and when Dumbledore dies, Harry and his friends go on a quest to systematically destroy them all. You're killed during the final showdown at Hogwarts," she said quietly.

Voldemort said nothing. He didn't look at her, simply traced a finger down the cover of _Deathly Hallows. _Two years, Melinda said. Two years until all the prophesies in this book became true. How many were true already?

"It's not set in stone yet," she said, shaking him from his melancholy thoughts. "During the battle at the Ministry of Magic, according to Rowling you possess Harry and Bellatrix kills Sirius Black. I changed that."

"How?"

Melinda stood again and crossed the room, returning with what looked like a rectagular flat black stone. She sat down next to him on the sofa, pressed a button, and the screen glowed with a strange blue light. Words appeared: WELCOME, MELINDA. ENTER PASSWORD.

Her fingers flew over the buttons labeled with letters, and the screen changed again. A few taps on the keypad, a few more keystrokes and the screen had changed once . He assumed this was her destination.

"This is a computer, and right now we're on the Internet. All kinds of stuff goes on there--for me, it's work and fanfiction." She explained to him that fanfiction was an opportunity for readers to write their own stories about a story they already liked--or hated. "I've been writing a story about you," she said, clicking on a link to _Lord Voldemort and the Rather Annoying Boy. _"I've been going through all seven books--right now I'm on the fifth--and writing them from your perspective. I never thought I was actually changing anything until I got to that scene in the Ministry; then I knew it was real." She handed him the laptop. "Here, you can read it."

That familiar cold feeling came over Voldemort again, and it was quickly replaced by excitement when he read what Melinda had written. Every chapter, every page, every _sentence _sounded like something he would say--had said, in most cases. Melinda knew him quite well. What was more, she seemed to like what she knew about him; the only sarcasm and contempt in the story came from him.

"I was going to write a surprise ending when I got to _Deathly Hallows._"

"One with a different victor?"

She grinned deviously. "Of course. I've been cheering for you since I realized what an incompetent bumbler Harry is." She shrugged. "Oh well. I suppose even a blind squirrel catches a nut once in a while."

"I have one more question," he said when the laughter ended. "How did Napoleon know where to find you?"

"I told him."

"Through a vision?"

She shrugged. "I suppose you could call it that. More of a....flash of insight. A tad cheesy as a plot device, but at least it brought you here."

Voldemort stared at her for a long moment, thinking. He finally pulled out his wand and looked at it, then stood. A theory had presented itself to him during their conversation, and now was the time to test it. He held his wand out to her. Their eyes met and he saw she understood.

"I trust you'll give it back?"

"Of course. What spell should I try?"

"Anything."

She considered for a moment, then pointed it at the cat sleeping in a ray of sunshine. "_Imperio._" The cat leapt to its feet, did a backflip and danced on two legs.

Melinda looked at Voldemort. He was smiling--no, _beaming_--and she smiled too.

"Pack your things," he finally said, taking his wand back. "Just enough to last until we can get you better ones, and enough money for a wand."

"Couldn't we just steal one? It might be faster."

He laughed, and Melinda decided she loved the sound of his laughter. "I like the way you think, Melinda. Pack your things, and we'll take care of the wand after the ceremony."

_Ceremony? _Her heart pounded; she thought she knew what he meant and hoped her guess was correct. "Of course...my lord."

He smiled and nodded once, and she headed to her room.

* * *

_Hopefully that explained a few things. _


	15. Chapter 15

* * *

Draco got on board the Hogwarts Express late, hoping Pansy would have already left the prefect's compartment by the time he entered. No such luck. She was already seated in a corner when he entered. He sat in the opposite corner and she presented her back to him. The instant the train lurched out of the station, Pansy stood and went to another compartment. Draco was just pulling a comic book when Hannah Abbot tapped his shoulder.

"Did you really steal Bellatrix Lestrange's wand?"

It took a moment for the question to sink in--whether because the question itself was odd or because a Hufflepuff prefect was talking to him, he wasn't sure. "Uh...yeah. I did."

"He tackled her, too," Ron said.

The Ravenclaw prefects stared at him wide-eyed. "Really?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Pretty much."

Ernie Macmillan looked at him with unconcealed awe. "Do you still have it? Her wand?"

His grin widened and he reached into his bag, then held Bellatrix's wand up proudly. "Got it right here," he said, silently thanking Sirius for giving it back to him.

"Woah...."

"That's so....wow."

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs moved closer to inspect the wand; Ron and Hermione sat back looking slightly smug. They had witnessed Bellatrix having her wand stolen by her nephew, after all; that he now had her wand was old news to them.

"So you just knocked her down and took it from her?"

"Yep."

One of the Ravenclaw prefects reached for it, but drew his hand back when Hannah said "Don't touch it, don't touch it!"

"You can touch it," Draco said. "It doesn't bite."

"How do _you_ know?"

"It hasn't bit _me_ yet. 'Course, I haven't had it that long."

By the time the lunch cart came by, two Ravenclaws, two Gryffindors, two Hufflepuffs and one Slytherin were chatting like old friends.

* * *

Sirius met Draco almost the instant he got off the train, then grabbed his arm and Disapparated. No one noticed them leave amid the confusion of Platform 9 3/4, and the next minute they stood in the entrance hall of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"So...this is where you live?"

"Yep."

A stupid question deserved a stupid answer, Draco thought. "I, uh, told the other prefects about Spazzy's wand."

Sirius laughed. "Is that what you call her?"

Draco grinned. "After meeting her and seeing what a spaz she is, I've decided to call her Aunt Spazzy."

He laughed until the tears came. "It fits. It really fits."

Draco laughed too, and it broke the tension. "So where am I staying?" he asked when they could breathe again.

"Anywhere you want," Sirius said with a wave of his hand. "Doesn't matter to me. You hungry?"

"Sort of." When the lunch cart came by, he had bought one of everything that didn't look completely repulsive. Anthony Goldstein and Ernie Macmillan had done the same. Since that amounted to more food than any of them could possibly eat, all of the prefects but Pansy had spent the afternoon snacking.

"All right. Dinner's whenever. Doesn't matter to me."

Draco nodded and headed up the stairs to find a room. He liked Sirius Black already.

* * *

Melinda returned to her apartment a week later. Although Voldemort hadn't told her to hurry, she felt the same urgency she felt when working with a client who looked like a hobo and had a deadline to meet. She walked briskly, reaching the sofa in a few quick strides_. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ still sat on the floor where Voldemort had left it. Melinda tucked it under her arm and went to her bedroom, selected_ Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince _and _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire _from her bookshelf, and held onto the spine while she dug in the pocket of her robes with her free hand for the portkey Voldemort had given her. A sudden tug at her navel, and she found herself back in the Malfoys' dining room, standing next to Voldemort.

"Here," she said, handing him both books. He refused and guestured for her to speak. Shrugging, she slammed the two books on the table, making everyone jump.

"You could say these books are our plan," she said. "They fortell the exact future we _don't _want, so we'll use their events as a shining example of what to avoid."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "And....how do you know this will work?"

Smiling faintly, Melinda opened _Goblet of Fire _and began to read aloud. The Death Eaters who had been present at Voldemort's rebirthing party looked at each other nervously, then at Melinda in awe. Her proof given, Melinda closed the book and held it up for all to see.

"These books document the entire Second War," she said, "and as you all just heard, it's pretty accurate." She put the book down and held up the other two, one in each hand. "These two document events that haven't happened yet. If we avoid everything in these two books--like I said, if we use them as a shining example of what _not _to do--we could win."

Voldemort watched her proudly. She was completely in her element, he realized. She was only doing what she was best at doing: helping people win. The only difference was the Dark Mark on her arm. The only difference was that now she was doing it for him.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

Harry's days at the Dursleys' dragged by. Dumbledore had told him that he only needed to stay long enough for his mother's protection to remain intact. In other words, too long. So when the doorbell rang at ten o'clock one morning and Harry heard Dudley shout that there was hobo in a dress on the front porch, Harry wanted to throw a party right then and there.

"Sirius!" Harry said when he saw the so-called hobo.

Dudley looked from Harry to Sirius and back again. "You're here for him?"

"No, I'm here for _you. _Ever heard of the Wizard Mafia?"

"The _what_?"

"You heard me. The Mafia, like in Russia or Italy, only with magic. And we don't like the way you've been dealing with Harry."

Dudley closed his eyes and shouted for his parents, who rushed in seconds later. "What is it, Dudders?" Petunia said soothingly. She let out a surprised gasp when she saw Sirius.

"Who are you?" Vernon demanded.

"He said he's from the Wizard Mafia," Dudley said, cowering behind his parents. "He said he's going to kill us!"

Vernon took a step forward. "Now, you see here--"

Sirius threw his hands into the air. "I never said _kill, _but let's not rule that out entirely. I just said we don't like the way you've been dealing with Harry, so we'll have to rectify that situation." He glanced past the Dursleys and saw Harry on the stairs, trying hard not to laugh. "So if you'll just give Harry to me, along with some sort of compensation--"

"Sirius, what do you think you're doing?"

Everyone turned to face Snape, who had appeared rather suddenly on the porch. Sirius' grin faded and his eyes narrowed. "What are _you _doing here?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "Dumbledore sent me to fetch Harry."

Sirius did the same. "Funny, that's exactly what he told _me _to do."

"Probably because he knew you'd do something stupid."

"What I'm doing isn't stupid!"

He looked unconvinced. "Then tell me, Sirius. Tell me what you're doing."

His eyes moved in a circle--Snape to Harry to the Dursleys and back to Snape. He held his breath for a long moment. "Fine!" he said at last and looked to the Dursleys. "I'm sorry, there is no Wizard Mafia. I'm just here for Harry."

A loud chorus of "I-knew-its" from the Dursleys.

"I'll, uh, go get my trunk," Harry said and darted up to his room. He returned a few minutes later, dragging it behind him. He tried to slip out the front door, but Vernon grabbed his arm.

"You try anything--and I mean _anything_--like that again, and you'll wish you'd never been born."

Harry nodded and followed Snape to the sidewalk. Before Vernon could turn away, he had a wand held to his throat.

"There may not be any Wizard Mafia," Sirius said, his voice low, "but there are curses that'll do things you never thought possible. I could turn you inside out right now if I wanted....but I won't, because I'm just that nice."

Vernon swallowed. This hobo meant business.

"When Harry comes back next summer, he won't be staying all that long. If you don't make that the best week of his life, don't be surprised if you spend the rest of your life as a goldfish."

Vernon swallowed again. Sirius pulled the wand away.

"We'll keep this just between us, 'kay?"

He nodded.

"Good." With that, Sirius turned away.

"What did you tell him?" Harry said when he joined them.

Sirius grinned. "I'll tell you later."

* * *

When the three of them arrived at Grimmauld Place, Draco hurried down the stairs. "Professor Snape? What're you doing here?"

"Keeping Sirius in line," he said.

"Well, I'm in line, Harry's here....so you can go now," Sirius said, releasing Harry's arm.

"Did I mention my cover has been compromised?"

Sirius' grin faded. "What?"

"Didn't I tell you?" He sighed. "The Dark Lord has a new follower, one with books that fortell the future--and my past. I told Dumbledore, and Dumbledore told me to stay here."

"Wait, wait, wait," Sirius said. "You're telling me that Dumbledore is having you stay here because of some _books_?"

"It's hard to explain, so I won't bother," Snape said, walking away. "Talk to Dumbledore if you still don't believe me."

"Oh, I will," Sirius said, walking in the opposite direction. "Believe me."

Harry looked at Draco in confusion. "You know what's going on?"

"Nope."

"Cool."

* * *

"Katie, Liesel, come over here."

The two girls came out of the kitchen carrying a bag of tortilla chips, a jar of salsa and three sodas. "Yeah? What is it?"

"You've got to read this." Jacob waved them over to the computer, and they sat down in front of the latest chapter of _Harry Potter and the Rather Annoying Boy. _Halfway through, both girls looked up at Jacob in confusion.

"Who's Melinda?"

"It's the author," he said, clicking on a link to Mira the Impaler's profile. "See? Her name's Melinda. she's thirty-seven, lives in London....she wrote herself into the story!"

"But how?" Katie said. "I thought we were the only ones who could do that."

"Apparently not." Jacob stood up and exhaled, a hand to his forehead. "She's in the story. She's in the story and she's working for Voldemort. She knows about this world, Voldemort knows about us, that means it's only a matter of time before...." His arms dropped to his sides. "Any idea how to fix this?"

Katie and Liesel looked at each other, then at Jacob. "We have to tell Dumbledore," Katie finally said.

Jacob nodded. "Right. Tell Dumbledore."

* * *

Dumbledore sat in the parlor of his summer home, staring out the window. The view was usually a pleasant distraction, but today he couldn't have said what it looked like. He kept going back to that hurried meeting with Severus, remembering what he'd been told.

_"She knows the future," _he had said. _"I read one of those books, and it reveals _everything. _About the Order, about you, about me--I didn't read much, but if I'd stayed any longer, he would have killed me." _

Now Severus was staying with Sirius Black--Grimmauld Place was Order headquarters, after all, and completely secure--and it was only a matter of time before this Melinda Peters found a way to tear down every plan he had so carefully put into place.

Sighing, he stood--and almost tripped over a small blond girl he had never seen before. For a moment, he was too surprised to speak. She swallowed nervously.

"Mr. Dumbledore?" she said, her American accent clear. "Hi...um, my name is Liesel Marsden. I....I have some stuff I have to talk to you about."

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

* * *

Dumbledore looked around the room, then back at Liesel. "How did you get here?"

She took a step forward. "I hope you have a lot of time on your hands, because it's sort of a long story."

He stared at her. Her clothes were Muggle, her accent American, and he guessed her age to be no more than fifteen or sixteen, but she didn't gape at the various magical trappings of his home. "Have a seat," he said after a moment, guesturing to an empty chair.

"Now," he said when they were both seated, "you came all the way from the States; I would imagine you have some important news."

"Uh, yeah," she said, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. "First of all.....I know a lot of your secrets. Where you got your wand, what happened to Ariana, why Snape is working for you....all kinds of stuff."

Dumbledore barely restrained himself from leaping out of his chair. Few people knew about the Elder Wand, and he could count the number of people who knew the truth about Ariana on one hand. "Oh really?" he said, doing his best to keep his voice calm and level.

Liesel nodded. "You've heard about Melinda and her books, right? Well, they're pretty famous where we come from." She explained how JK Rowling had written an incredibly popular series of books about the Second War--and in this world they just so happened to fortell events that hadn't happened yet. She also explained that some people wrote stories based on those books, some of which changed events. Liesel told him how she and Katie had written different stories that somehow hinted at the future Draco and Harry would see if they didn't change it. "I thought me and Katie were the only ones who could do that at first," she said. "Guess Melinda can do it too."

He was silent for a long time. He had no reason to doubt Liesel's story; in fact, it fit perfectly with what Severus had told him. But her story opened doors to disturbing possibilities. "What do the books reveal, exactly?"

She bit her lip. "Everything_. Goblet of Fire _tells everything about how Voldemort comes back, _Deathly Hallows_--the last one--talks a lot about your past..."

"Does it reveal any...secrets? About the Order?"

A pause while that sank in. "Yes." She stood suddenly. "Uh, Mr. Dumbledore, we'd better get to Grimmauld Place--and fast. _Deathly Hallows _tells exactly how to get inside."

* * *

Snape and Sirius were arguing again--what about, neither Harry nor Draco was completely sure. Sometime in the middle of writing his letter, Snape had interrupted him, and it had escalated from there. Harry and Draco had tried to listen in, but found it impossible to understand exactly what they were saying.

"I wish they'd stop," Harry said.

Draco stood from the bed opened his trunk. "I can do that."

"Do what?"

"Make them stop."

Maybe it was the devious light behind his eyes, or the way he said it, or the way he rummaged through his trunk, but Harry was immediately unsettled. "How?"

He looked up. "What do you have in the way of leftover potions ingredients?"

"I don't know."

"Anything flammable?" He threw a few shirts onto the floor, then found what he was looking for. "Aha!" He took out two small boxes, then a small bottle and several pouches. He opened one and frowned, then looked at Harry. "You wouldn't happen to have any saltpeter, would you?"

"Um....I don't know. What're you going to do with it?"

"Light it on fire."

Harry didn't know what was more disturbing--Draco's plan, or the casual way he said it. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not? I do this all the time at home--I don't even use magic!"

"Wait....you do this at _home_?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, all the time. Mum and Dad start arguing, I mix a couple of really flammable things together, create a spark, and BANG! Argument's over, just like that." He snapped his fingers.

Harry had nothing to say. It didn't surprise him that Lucius and Narcissa argued, though the fact that Draco so readily admitted it did. "I never thought of making a bomb to get people to stop arguing."

"Works for me." Harry seemed to have changed his mind about the bomb, so Draco began mixing potions ingredients expertly, pouring them into an empty pouch. When he had finished, he drew it closed and shook the pouch, then ran from the room, tossed the homemade bomb over the banister, and waited.

_BANG! _

The explosion wasn't especially loud or violent, but there was quite a bit of smoke. When it cleared, the argument had ended, Snape and Sirius were running upstairs, and Draco was grinning from ear to ear.

Snape pointed his wand at both boys. "What's going on up here?"

Harry was just about to blame Kreacher when Draco said "Nothing, nothing at all."

It wasn't meant to be taken seriously; perhaps the grin on his face gave it away. Snape looked at him suspiciously. "Draco? What did you do?"

He shrugged. "Just playing with leftover potions ingredients is all. You always told us to practice over the summer."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You weren't using magic, were you?"

"Nope."

Snape was just about to refute that claim when Dumbledore's voice boomed from the entryway. "WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?"

The four of them raced to the banister. There, at the foot of the stairs, was Dumbledore and a blond girl Draco thought he recognized. Sirius swallowed.

"Um, up here."

Dumbledore looked up and saw all four of them, confused but unharmed. "Sirius, what is going on?"

"Um, nothing, Professor," Draco said. "Just messing around."

Dumbledore looked unconvinced. He sighed. "You can explain it on the way. Grab only what you can carry and come with me."

The four men looked at each other. "Why?" Snape finally said.

"Because if what Liesel tells me is correct, the Death Eaters should be here any second."

* * *


	18. Chapter 18

* * *

Sirius frowned. "Wait--you come to what is probably the most secure place in Britian and tell us that Death Eaters will be here any second?"

"Uh, yeah," the blond girl named Liesel said. "Look, it'll take a while to explain, and I don't think we have all that much time, but..." She looked at Snape. "Snape, you read those books, right? Well, they tell how to get inside here, and if we don't hurry--"

A soft _pop _interrupted her and a hooded figure appeared beside them. "Aha! Just like the books said!"

Liesel swallowed hard and backed away, bumping into another Death Eater as he appeared. "C'mon, Katie," she muttered. "You can use that cheesy plot device anytime now...."

More and more Death Eaters Apparated into the room. The one Liesel had bumped into tried to grab her from behind, but she spun out of the way. "C'mon, Katie, now!"

"Katie? Who's Katie?" She didn't look to see who had asked; the veiled threat behind the question told her it was a Death Eater.

Suddenly, Sirius grabbed Harry's arm and Disapparated. Snape did the same with Draco. Dumbledore and Liesel were the last pair to leave, vanishing just as the Death Eaters started panicking.

* * *

"Where are we?" was the first thing Sirius said upon reappearing. He knew the location--a small cafe on Charing Cross Road--but had no idea why he was there, or how he had known to Apparate here, or who the redheaded girl was.

"We're not staying long," the redheaded girl said, turning back to what looked like a glowing flat black stone. Her fingers flew across keys labeled with letters, and Sirius felt himself being pulled along, as if someone had grabbed his arm and was dragging him through space. The sensation only lasted a moment, and when it passed, he found himself in a very unfamiliar Muggle house.

"Where are we now?" Harry asked.

"My house," the redheaded girl said. "I guess we've got some explaining to do."

* * *

Sirius paced the living room floor, raking his fingers through his hair. "So you're telling me you know the future and can change it--along with anything else you feel like changing?"

"Pretty much," Katie said. "I mean, it looks like we can't make anyone do anything they don't already sort of want to do, but yeah, that's about it."

"Well, we don't exactly know the future," Liesel said. "We know one possible future, and it looks like we've already changed that."

"Yeah, you and Melinda," Jacob said, leaning against a wall.

"Yeah."

All were silent for a moment. "So what now?" Snape finally said. "You've taken us to the United States, of all places--how do you expect us to do anything about the Dark Lord from across the Atlantic?"

Katie and Liesel looked at each other. "We hadn't quite figured that out just yet," Katie said.

"Yeah, we were just trying to get you away from Voldemort."

"I doubt he'd come all the way here," Snape said. "So your plan seems to be working in that regard."

"Once we come up with one that's more of, you know, a _plan, _we'll be in business," Draco said.

Another moment passed. "Guess we should head back to Britain," Liesel finally said. "We'll come up with more of a plan then."

* * *

Voldemort was mad.

Actually, saying he was mad was like saying Michael Jackson was a freak. He was ticked. Furious. _Pissed. _Of course, Lucius didn't need to be told this as he did his best to cower and grovel without retreating to a corner or falling to his knees--which he knew would only enflame his fury.

"I'm....sorry, my lord."

"Don't tell me you're sorry. I don't want your sorry. What I want is an explanation. So tell me, Lucius. Tell me how you managed to let yet another ambush go awry."

He swallowed. "It wasn't me--"

Voldemort laughed harshly. "Of course it wasn't. It's _never _you, is it?"

"No, I mean...." He took a deep breath. "Dumbledore was there, along with Severus and...a girl I've never seen before. Blond. American." He saw this was news to Voldemort and decided to plunge ahead. Maybe it could save his hide. "She seemed to know us--or about us, at least--because she backed away when I Apparated in front of her."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "You know as well as I that simple fear causes the same reaction."

"Of...course, my lord. But she kept talking to the ceiling, calling for someone named Katie. Before I knew it, they had all vanished, Disapparated. I'm telling you, I don't know where they went."

Melinda tapped Voldemort's shoulder, and he leaned down so she could whisper in his ear. What she said made him frown, and they stepped aside for a moment, and their whispered conversation became more animated. When Voldemort returned, he was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and tense with controlled rage.

"Melinda has just informed me that there may be others like her."

"Other....others who know the future?"

"Others who can _change _the future. You will find them, and you will bring them to me. Alive."

Lucius felt his body relax. He wasn't going back to Azkaban--unless, of course, he failed again. "Y-yes, my lord."

He bowed to Voldemort, and considered bowing to Melinda--she had, after all, helped him escape from Azkaban--but decided he was in hot water anyway and didn't need to take any more risks. If he was ever told to bow to her, he would, but not before then.

He left as quickly as he could.

* * *

_Okay, they Apparated to the cafe because Katie and Liesel needed them all in one safe place before they could write them back to the US. And, as you probably guessed, Melinda used her writing and supreme evil-ness to help Lucius--and several others--quietly escape from Azkaban. The Ministry will find out before too terribly long. ;P_


	19. Chapter 19

* * *

Katie and Liesel were listening to Dumbledore, Snape and Sirius debate over which location would make the best Order hideout when the front door opened. The excited chatter of Katie's siblings entered the room just before her mother called out that she was home.

"Who is that?" Snape demanded in a whisper.

Katie went pale. "That's my mom." What would she say when she found Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore in her living room?

Her question was answered a moment later when Fiona O'Mally rounded the corner leading from the entryway. "Katie? What's going--" With a surprised gasp, she dropped the jug of milk she was carrying as her hand flew to her mouth. For a long, terrible moment she could only stare at the five strange men in her living room. Then she slowly lowered her hand.

"Katie, would you come here for a minute?"

Katie followed her mom into the kitchen like a prisoner being led to the electric chair. "Yeah? What is it?"

She folded her arms across her chest. "Well, let's start with the fact that there are five strange men in my living room."

"Uh, funny story. See, it all started when Liesel and I were writing fanfics, and then we found out that the characters were all real--"

"Woah, hold on, back up. You said they're all _real_?" Fiona laughed, but Katie could tell she was really mad.

"Yeah. That's what I said. Anyway, Leese and I started writing, and we found out they're all real and this evil writer named Melinda joined Voldemort and so we had to help all the good guys and so we went to England and brought them all back here just before Death Eaters caught us." She drew a deep breath. "That's all."

Fiona turned away, but not before Katie caught a glimpse of her expression. It was the same one she had worn when nine-year-old Jared told her invading aliens had scared him and caused him to break a glass knicknack of hers. She was quiet for a long time.

"I know you don't believe me, Mom, and I totally know why. But you have to--"

"Why, Katie? Give me one good reason."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Have I ever pulled anything like this before?"

Silence. Katie knew she had struck a chord, so she continued. "All right, then, see? Why would I invite five guys neither of us know over and not tell you--unless, of course, we _both _already know _all _of them because we've both read the books and they're in trouble?"

Fiona turned back after a long moment, and she sighed. "All right, Katie."

"You believe me?"

"No, but I'll give you a chance to make me believe you."

"Okay." They went into the living room.

* * *

Alex reread the last few chapters of his fic for the third time. Not only had Napoleon Dynamite been kidnapped by Voldemort and Bellatrix, but he had also helped Voldemort find some lady named Melinda who became a Death Eater, told Voldemort to let Napoleon go, and--was he reading this right?--blew Snape's cover by letting Voldemort read _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_.

A fanfic writer joining Voldemort? This chick had some _serious _issues.

Alex dipped another totilla chip in salsa and clicked on a link to _Lord Voldemort and the Rather Annoying Boy. _The story was the same here: Napoleon Dynamite leads Voldemort to Melinda Peters, who joins him and uses the books to help him win the war. Alex read on, frowning when he reached the next few chapters. Not only did Melinda help Lucius Malfoy escape from Azkaban, she also helped them break into Grimmauld Place. Fortunately, Dumbledore and some chick named Liesel showed up and--

He scrolled back up. Liesel? The same Liesel who had somehow gotten into his story?

Yep, it was the same Liesel--blond hair, blue eyes, American accent, seemed to know more than she should. Was this just some self-insert fest, or was it all real? There was only one way to find out. Alex took a deep breath, opened a new document, and began to write.

* * *

Fiona O'Mally sat on the sofa, facing her five visitors. "So, what are your names?"

The Dumbledore look-alike took the lead. "I'm Albus Dumbledore, and this is Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape and Sirius Black. And you?"

"Fiona O'Mally." Now _this_ was surprising, she thought. No normal person would introduce himself as Albus Dumbledore--unless, of course, he really _was_ Albus Dumbledore. Either that, or a really avid LARPer. Fiona decided it must be the latter. "And...where are you from?"

"Britain."

Duh. She could've guessed that much from his accent. "So what brings you to the US?"

The Harry Potter look-alike spoke up. "Katie brought us here."

"Katie did."

"Yeah," the Sirius look-alike said. "See, we were being ambushed, so she had us all Apparate to a small coffee shop in downtown London, and then she wrote us all here."

"She....wrote you here."

"Yes."

"Uh-huh." Their stories matched up. Fiona decided Katie must have told them to lie beforehand--despite the niggling doubt telling her that no person in their right mind would lie about something like this. She decided to change her tactics. "So....you're all wizards, then."

"Yes."

"So you can use magic."

"I believe that's the definition of 'wizard,' yes."

"Can you show me some?"

The guy who looked like Sirius was about to say yes, but the guy who looked like Snape grabbed his arm. "Sirius, she's a Muggle."

"We don't know that." He raised his wand, but 'Snape' knocked it out of his hand. 'Sirius' turned on him angrily. "Look, I don't see your problem--"

"She's a _Muggle_!"

"So?"

"Fine. Not only is she Muggle, she's _American_!"

He folded his arms across his chest. "And we're British. I still don't see your point."

"We can't trust her!"

"Says who, Almighty Snape?"

Snape was about to say something else when Fiona leapt to her feet. "All right, I get it!"

Everyone looked at her in confusion. "Get what?"

She took a deep breath. "I get it. You're really wizards, aren't you?"

"Of course."

A long, tense moment passed while Fiona put the pieces together. "Then....then you're really....you're Sirius Black!"

Sirius grinned. "I was wondering when you'd catch on."

Fiona sank onto the sofa again, trying to maintain her composure, then stood after a long moment and retreated to the kitchen, saying she'd return with coffee. Coffee would take a few minutes to make, minutes she'd need to let it sink in that the hottest character in the Harry Potter universe was standing in her living room.

* * *

Alex opened his eyes and looked around. He was standing in a grassy feild, exactly where he'd written himself. So if he was correct, all he'd have to do is climb this hill and....

_There it was! _Just in front of him was a ramshackle house where only wizards could live, because only magic could support a house like this. A redheaded man ran outside, frowned at him, then shouted back into the house.

"Hey, Molly? Are we expecting anyone?"

"No, why?"

"'Cause someone just Apparated onto our front lawn."

Alex knew he should identify himself, knew he should tell them what he was doing here, but he couldn't speak. Arthur Weasley, one of the coolest characters ever, was standing right in front of him.

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

* * *

Molly ran outside and stood beside Arthur as he studied the boy.

"Is he a Muggle?" she whispered.

"Looks like it."

"Just tell him he's lost and give him directions to the nearest town." She hoped he wouldn't try and talk to him. The poor boy looked rattled, and being interrogated about his bathroom sink probably wouldn't help matters.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Ron and Ginny came outside and stared, whispering back and forth. Alex swallowed hard and finally found his voice.

"Uh, my name's Alex....Alex Payne," he called. The Weasleys looked at each other in confusion.

"I've got some stuff I need to tell you," he said. "I think it's kind of important."

* * *

Once inside the Burrow, Alex couldn't help staring. Everything was exactly as Rowling said it was--no, better. Better because it was all real and he was staring at it. The hands on the wall clock were all pointed in different directions, none at 'Mortal Peril,' but Alex knew that would change soon.

Arthur sat in an armchair and guestured for Alex to sit on the sofa. Molly stood beside her husband and Ron and Ginny hovered near enough to eavesdrop. "So tell me, how did an American Muggle get all the way over here?"

"Well....it's sort of a long story. See, I'm not totally sure I'm a Muggle."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You'd think that'd be something you'd know."

"Well, yeah, but I'm not sure." He took a deep breath, then explained about Melinda. "She's a writer, right? Well, most fanfic writers never change anything. If they wrote a story about what might happen if Vold--You-Know-Who--started using killer ninja penguins, nothing would happen, right? Well, this Melinda lady wrote herself into the story and joined You-Know-Who and now she's gonna kill everybody."

Arthur blinked. "Okay, back up. Melinda is a writer...who can alter reality."

"Pretty much."

"And she's joined You-Know-Who."

"Yeah. Oh, and I guess she kind of knows the future, too."

"Wait, wait, wait--she knows the future?"

"Sort of. See, this British chick named JK Rowling wrote a bunch of books about you guys and the Second War and stuff--all about what happens to Harry and everybody--and they're really popular in my world, so Melinda has 'em."

"So....there are books...that fortell the future....and You-Know-Who got to them before we did?" He still sounded a bit skeptical, so Alex changed tactics.

"Percy is gone," he said, and Molly looked at him in surprise. "He's letting his job pull him away from all of you guys, which is kind of weird, because when Ginny got possessed by You-Know-Who four years ago, he was the one who worried most."

"How did you know--"

"Arthur, you got bit by that snake and almost died--that's when that clock over there had your hand on 'Mortal Peril'--but Harry saw through the snake's eyes and you got to St. Mungo's in time."

The Weasleys stared at him with a mixture of amazement and fear.

"Like I said, the books tell about the entire Second War--from when Harry first goes to Hogwarts to when the War finally ends two years from now. They talk about everything that's happened so far--and everything that hasn't happened yet."

"What....what does it say about us? Our family?"

"_Everything. _That's kind of why I'm here." He took a deep breath, knowing no one would like what he had to say next. "Fred dies in the last book, and I know how to stop it."

* * *

Once Katie's siblings heard that Harry Potter was in their living room, they immediately came out of hiding and swarmed around him, asking a dozen questions a minute.

"Did you really see Voldemort up close?"

"What does Dudley look like?"

"How come you never ran away?"

"Okay, everybody out!" Fiona shooed them out, promising them time with their favorite characters later, then looked at Harry apologetically. "Sorry. You're really popular, where we come from."

"Yeah. Tell me about it."

"Oh, right. The Ministry." She laughed. "Almost forgot about that."

"So," Katie said, "what are we going to do?"

Snape sighed. "We'll have to return to Britain--and soon."

"Yeah." Nobody liked the idea of returning to a war zone, but there was no other option. Silence reigned for a few minutes while everyone pondered something--returning to Britain, running from Voldemort, the look on Cornelius Fudge's face when he had to admit Sirius was innocent. Fiona was the first to speak.

"I should probably go with you, whenever you go back." She laughed at Katie's startled look. "Don't think I was going to let you run off to England all by yourself, young lady! Especially not with Voldemort running the show."

"He's not running anything yet," Draco said, more to himself than anyone else.

"Are we taking the midgets with us?" Katie said, referring to her siblings.

"Of course. I'm not leaving them here--if that's okay with you, Mr. Dumbledore."

"No, no, bring them along. When Voldemort finds out about your daughter, you'll all need Order protection."

Fiona nodded, then shouted down the hall: "Hey, everyone get packing! We're going to England!"

Cheers followed. Jacob turned to Liesel.

"We'd better get home, too, since it looks like we're going along." He looked at Dumbledore. "When are we leaving?"

"As soon as possible."

* * *

Grimmauld Place was searched thoroughly, but after four hours, the closest thing to a clue anyone found was several empty potions bottles and pouches surrounding Draco's school trunk.

"Suicide or murder?"

Lucius shook his head. "Neither. He must have been making a bomb."

"A bomb?"

"A small one. He did it all the time at home." His throat closed as he thought of the silence at home, the silence left when Draco vanished, only to be seen before disappearing again....with Albus Dumbledore. The Dark Lord hadn't said so, but Lucius knew that the next time his son was sighted, he wouldn't be seen long. Not if he valued his life.

He stared at the empty bottles for a long moment before turning away. "There's nothing here."

"But--"

"Let's go," he said curtly and went downstairs. He noticed little of his surroundings; there was nothing to see but plenty to think about. Draco was a traitor and near the top of the Dark Lord's Most Wanted List.

How was he going to tell Narcissa?

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

* * *

_You've probably noticed by now that I took down chapters 21-27. From a quick re-read of the story, I gathered that those chapters were where the story started to go wrong. So I'm going to backtrack a bit and continue telling the story the way I should've told it from the beginning. (And yes, that means I won't be introducing a new character every few chapters ;).) So, without further ado, allow me to return to the story. _

* * *

'As soon as possible' turned out to be later than everyone thought. Choosing what to take and what to leave behind was harder than it looked, especially for Jacob and Liesel.

"Are you taking that or not?" Jacob asked when he saw Liesel take a top out of her suitcase for the third time.

"I don't know," she said. "It's so hard."

"Well, we're probably going to need all new clothes once we get there."

"I know, but what if I need to pawn something?"

"Where would you pawn it?" Jacob laughed.

Liesel grinned. "Pawn shop. Duh."

He laughed again, standing and ruffling her hair. "Stop being so paranoid. We'll do just fine."

She smiled and looked at the suitcase again. A few things had a permanent place there--a stuffed hippo she'd had since her fourth Christmas, a locket that had belonged to her mother, a picture of both parents. She took the picture out of the suitcase and studied it. Vera Marsden sat on a wooden stool, smiling at the camera. Rudy Marsden stood behind his wife, his arms wrapped around her shoulders. Liesel smiled sadly. What would they say now, seeing their two children return to Europe? Nothing pleasant, to be sure.

She put the picture back in the suitcase and stood, glancing around her room for the hundredth time. Once they had everything in order, she would leave for Europe with her best friend and her brother to help Harry Potter defeat Voldemort. The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded--and the more real it seemed.

Liesel went to her closet and grabbed four more tops and folded them carefully before putting them in her suitcase.

* * *

By the time Jacob and Liesel finished packing, it was nearly seven-thirty. Jacob made hamburgers for dinner, proclaiming it their "last truly American meal for a while." They ate in front of the TV, like always. Liesel couldn't have said what the show they watched was about.

Jacob spent the next morning making arrangements for his dojo and their apartment. Danielle, his girlfriend and a third-degree black belt, would take over the dojo until they returned. None of them thought it would take more than a few weeks to get Voldemort out of the picture. After all, they knew where each horcrux was and the most effective ways to destroy them. No one had told Harry the truth about his scar yet, but Liesel was sure they could get rid of it safely before it became a problem. And if Liesel was sure, Jacob was sure too. They had discussed a dozen different ways to eliminate the horcrux after reading the last book, and one of them was bound to work.

The next morning, Jacob turned off the lights and locked up the apartment. They dragged their suitcases down the stairs, got in Jacob's car, and drove to the O'Mally's house. Once everyone was there, they clustered together. Katie opened her laptop, dashed off a few sentences, and hit the Enter key. A second later, they were back in Britain, standing in the middle of some random field.

"Well," Katie said. "That was easy."

* * *

Tom didn't ask for all the weirdos. He liked them well enough--when they paid--but when a guy with beetle eyes or a bearded lady asked for a room in the Leaky Cauldron, Tom wondered what he'd done to deserve this gig.

Today was one of those days. A slow day for the first hour or so (there weren't too many witches or wizards who wanted to leave home, what with You-Know-Who on the loose) but around nine-thirty a group of twenty or so people walked in. Most were dressed in Muggle clothes, but Tom recognized Dumbledore, Harry and--could it be?--Sirius Black. He was laughing at something Harry had said.

"It's all right, Tom," Dumbledore laughed when he scrambled to his feet. "They're all with me."

"All of them?"

"Yes. And they all need rooms."

He looked the group over again. Mostly Muggles, a few wizards, and one of Azkaban's most notorious criminals. Against his resolve, a grin tugged at his toothless mouth.

"All righty, then."

"You'll do it?"

"Yeah. Sounds like a party to me."

* * *

Diagon Alley was just as Alex had always pictured it: cobblestone streets, brick buildings and strange little storefronts that all seemed to invite him in with the promise of magical secrets. He longed to break free from Arthur's hand on his shoulder and run into the first shop he saw, which happened to be a cafe. What did wizard food taste like, anyway? Probably like Muggle food, only better because it was made by wizards.

"It's just up here," Arthur said, interrupting his thoughts. Alex immediately felt bad for wanting to ditch. This was his son they were talking about, after all. Besides, if Arthur hadn't gone with him today, then he probably would've run back and forth between all the shops, shouting like a maniac and asking a million stupid questions. He would get even more strange looks than he was getting now--thanks to his Muggle clothes, he guessed.

Finally, they reached a shop that seemed to explode with color. His friend Evan's joke about why casinos were covered in flashing lights--"Flashing lights! More inside!"--came to mind. He grinned. That was probably Fred and George's strategy. They were so cool.

Arthur pushed through the crowd toward the front desk, and Alex stayed close. He tried not to look at the shelves, knowing that if he so much as glanced at a box of U-No-Poo, he'd never leave the shop.

A few minutes later, they were at the front desk. One of the twins--his nametag said Fred--was manning the cash register. His eyes lit up when he saw Arthur. "Dad! What're you doing here? I thought you and Mum weren't coming back until Ron and Ginny got their supply lists?"

"We weren't planning on it," Arthur said, glancing at Alex. "But, ah, something's come up."

"By 'something' you wouldn't happen to mean that little booby trap we set up for Ickle Ronnykins, would you?"

"No, I--wha?"

"Never mind." He leaned forward, resting on his elbows. "So what is it?"

Arthur hesitated. "Could we head up to your apartment? I'd rather discuss this in private."

* * *


	22. Chapter 22

* * *

After reading _Prisoner of Azkaban _with Jacob, Liesel had often imagined what it would be like to live in Diagon Alley. She had pictured herself in Harry's place, sitting in a room at the Leaky Cauldron, staring out an open window at the milling crowds two stories below, watching her fellow witches and wizards buy and sell brooms, wands, spellbooks and owls. Maybe she'd even enjoy doing her Hogwarts homework while she watched. After all, if the school was magical, the homework couldn't be that much worse.

_Ha ha_, she thought dismally, remembering. Long division had nothing on Transfiguration homework--especially when she was several years behind. Knowing the spells and knowing how to do them were two completely different things, and she found herself staring out the window more and more.

The door creaked and then slammed, but Liesel didn't look up. She knew it was Jacob. He was the only person other than Dumbledore who had a key to their room.

"Hey, Leese," he said.

"Hey, Jake. What's with the accent?" He sometimes spoke in a German accent--usually when the two of them recalled stories involving their parents.

She heard him sit down on one of the beds. "You remember how Mama and Papa talked, right?"

"'Course I do. Why?"

"You also remember how you sent me to You-Know-Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Look, I said I was sorry."

"I know." He sighed, and she turned around. His expression was serious. "You'll be going to Hogwarts soon, and you and Katie have already written yourselves into the story. He already knows we're American."

Liesel shrugged. "So?"

"So he'll be on the lookout for us. For you and me--two Americans. But if we can pull off being German..."

"Then we'll throw him off our trail." She nodded, then frowned. "What about Katie? And her mom and brother and sisters? She can barely pull off fakey Mexican."

"Katie's not my responsibility. You are." He stood. "Finish your homework, and then we'll brush up on our German. You remember much?"

"Enough, I guess."

"All right. We'll work on it some more later, _ja_?"

She nodded, and he left. When the door was closed, she turned back to her books.

"Finish your homework," she muttered, practicing her accent. "Easy for you to say."

* * *

There were many parallels to be drawn between the wizard and Muggle worlds. Hogwarts, for example, was a classic boarding school--a refuge for those who wanted refuge; a lonely island for the antisocial. Azkaban could be compared to Alcatraz, although Alcatraz had never, to Melinda's knowledge, employed dementors. Diagon Alley, then, was an enormous mall--no, a bustling village in the middle of London where everyone went shopping.

Melinda had always enjoyed shopping. Image consultants could charge whatever they liked, provided their services merited a high price. And Melinda's did. Her clients were successful, so it was hardly unreasonable for her to share in the bounty.

And bounty there was, now that the wealthiest Death Eaters owed her their lives.

She had made it a tradition to treat herself to something new after each successful deal--a new outfit, new pair of shoes, new book, whatever struck her fancy. Today, she thought she might buy one of each.

The writers were here.

Perhaps not here in Diagon Alley, but definitely here in Britain. She had read the chapter several times before it was taken down. A girl named Katie had written herself, her mother, five siblings, friends named Jacob and Liesel, Dumbledore, Sirius Black, Snape, Harry and Draco Malfoy into the story and into Britain.

She didn't have them yet. At the moment, she didn't even know where they were. But Voldemort was certain she could find them, and if he was certain, she was certain. It was as simple as that.

Melinda walked down the cobblestone streets at a leisurely pace, taking in the sights. Just another witch enjoying her day in Diagon Alley. So what if everyone else looked so terrified? She refused to blend in, for she had nothing to fear. Lord Voldemort was on her side.

Something bumped into her, nearly knocking her off-balance. She spun angrily and found herself looking into a pair of wide blue eyes, framed by honey-blonde hair.

"Oh, I am sorry," she said in a thickly accented voice. "Please excuse me, Frau..."

"Peters," Melinda said coldly.

"I apologize," she said again. "I am new here."

"So I can see." She spun on her heel and marched off. Nothing like a clueless foreigner to spoil her day. At least she spoke English well enough--unlike some others she had met.

Exhaling, Melinda walked into the nearest tailor's shop. Maybe a new outfit would help ease her frustration.

* * *

Draco jumped when he heard a knock at his door. "I'll get it," Harry said and opened it. Liesel stood in the doorway.

"I had a question," she said without greeting.

"What's with the accent?" Draco asked before Harry could reply.

She smiled slightly. "It's German. You like it?"

"Sounds pretty authentic. What's it for?"

"Jacob said it would help keep us undercover--you know, since I sent him to You-Know-Who that first time, and--"

Harry was shocked. "You sent him _where_?"

"You-Know-Who. To see if the writing worked. I know, I know, it was pretty stupid, since now he knows we're American--_but_, back to my question."

"What is it?"

"Is everyone in Diagon Alley so _rude_? I bumped into this lady and she glared at me, acted like I'd called her names or something."

Draco sniffed. "I don't know. Was she friends with my dad? That'd explain it."

Liesel shrugged. "How should I know?" She sighed. "Maybe I _should've_ called her a name or two. She deserved it."

"In German or English?" Harry smiled.

Liesel smiled too. "I don't think it would have mattered much. The German names I know don't really need a translation, if you know what I mean."

Draco grinned. "Can you teach us some?"

"You sure you want to learn?"

Harry looked between the two of them, and a smile spread across his face as well. "Teach away."

* * *


	23. Chapter 23

Liesel's heart raced as the sleek red train approached, then pounded faster as it rolled to a stop. She took a step forward, swaying a bit, but Jacob caught her arm and steadied her.

"Careful," he laughed, speaking German again. "Don't want to fall."

"I'm so nervous," she answered in the same language. After using German for most of their conversations, it had come back fairly quickly. Memories of her parents were crisp and clear now, aiding her progress. "I don't know if I've studied enough."

"What, night and day weren't enough for you?"

"A few extra hours would have been nice."

He chuckled. "You'll do fine. Just remember what Papa used to say. If you can't dazzle them with your brilliance..."

"Baffle them with your BS," she finished with a smile. "Thanks."

He loaded her trunk onto the train and helped her find an empty compartment. "You're lucky, you know."

"Why? Because I get to go to Hogwarts?"

He lowered his voice, still smiling. "That, and you get to be the cool German transfer student. Just think: If you're in Slytherin, everyone will think you're from Durmstrang."

She grinned, but it faded quickly. "That won't work long. I don't know anything about Durmstrang."

Jacob shrugged. "Oh well. You'll still be the cool German kid who knows how to kill someone with her bare hands."

"I think that's frowned upon."

"Yeah, but it's exciting to know, all the same." He lifted her trunk into the compartment above her head and looked at her. "I sure will miss you."

"Yeah. I'll miss you too."

They hugged each other at the same moment, almost unaware of the students boarding the train and parents exiting it. "You'll do fine," he whispered.

"Yeah. You be careful out there."

"I'll try." He pulled away and exited the train. Liesel watched him go, then slowly sat down and stared out the window.

* * *

If there was one thing Rowling had underestimated, it was how much Molly Weasley loved hugs. She embraced Ron, Ginny and Harry as they stood on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, then surprised Alex with a hug as well. "You be careful, all right? Ron, you be sure to write me."

He rolled his eyes. "I will, Mum."

"Don't you 'I will, Mum' me! You run off at the end of the term and don't even bother telling me where you are until I see you in Diagon Alley, of all places! I want to know where you are this year!"

"I already said I was sorry."

"Besides, Dumbledore needed to keep us away from Melinda."

She stood back. "Well. When he finds this Melinda person, I hope he lets me give her a piece of my mind! Turning this world upside down." She sniffed. "Vile woman."

Alex thought about saying more, but Arthur took him aside before he could. "You'll keep an eye on things for us?"

"'Course I will. If this Melinda lady shows up, you'll be the first to know." Never mind he had no idea what she looked like or where she was or why she would show up at Hogwarts. If Arthur asked him to keep an eye on things to make sure Fred was out of danger, he'd do it.

"Good. I want you to be careful, all right? Don't pull a Fred and George on anyone." There was no missing the smile that played on his lips.

"I won't." The Express whistle screamed, calling them to board. "I...I guess I'd better go."

"All right."

"See you later, then?"

Arthur nodded, and Alex boarded the train. Once there, he sat down in the first empty compartment he saw. There was no knowing who would join him, but who cared? He was going to Hogwarts. Nothing beat _that._

* * *

"Katie!" Liesel waved when she saw her friend board the train, but the redhead was too busy herding her younger siblings on to notice.

"'Ello there." Liesel jumped. A dark-haired girl was sitting across from her.

"Oh....hello." She glanced back at the aisle. To her disappointment, Katie had already vanished.

"Name's Millicent," the girl continued. "Millicent Bullstrode."

"Liesel Marsden."

"Where are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"A...ah...Germany." She cleared her throat, hoping Millicent wouldn't notice she had almost said _America_. "From Duisburg, near Dusseldorf."

"Cool. You transfer from Durmstrang?"

"Oh, no. I was homeschooled."

"Ah." She sounded disappointed. Liesel suddenly remembered that Millicent was in Slytherin, and Slytherins admired Durmstrang. Befriending the newest Durmstrang transfer student would probably increase Millicent's cool quotient a great deal. "Most German students go to Durmstrang."

"Yes. I've gathered that."

She smiled slightly, looking out the window. "This should be quite the year. Better, now that Umbridge is gone."

Liesel knew that if she was to blend in, she'd have to play the part. "Who is Umbridge?"

"Our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Fat. Ugly. Looked like a toad." Liesel couldn't restrain a surprised laugh. "Well, not all of us Slytherins liked her, you know. She might have been nice to us when it suited her, but she was a real bitch sometimes."

"How so?"

"Oh, you know. Coming up with all these rules, patrolling the hallways, making DADA the most annoying class in school...she was just _bitchy_."

Liesel couldn't help but smile. "So tell me about Hogwarts. You're in Slytherin? My parents said it was a good House to be in."

Millicent smiled. "The _best_ House to be in."


	24. Chapter 24

The morning of September First, Melinda checked the website for an update from her favorite authors. Something along the lines of "Alex got accepted at Hogwarts and did awesome" or "On Liesel's first day at Hogwarts, she discovered that British Gryffindors had a thing for hot American girls." She scanned the first few pages, then ran a search by the author's name.

Nothing.

Frowning, Melinda tried again. No story about three Americans coming to Hogwarts. Nothing about cute guys and Quidditch captains and being the best at everything. Ah, well. No matter. All Melinda had to do was influence the teachers and get the writers expelled. But first, a test. She opened a new document and began to write.

_When Katie arrived at Hogwarts, she never expected to be placed in Slytherin. Her designs had been on Gryffindor, always Gryffindor, the House of the Lion...._

* * *

When it came time for Liesel to be Sorted, she never expected to be in a different House than her best friend. She'd come across the lake with the first years, and if she hadn't known pain before, she knew it now. Riding on a magical train didn't make the train ride magical or even enjoyable, and being shoved into a boat full of eleven-year-olds was like lemon juice on a paper cut.

"Why are you coming with us?" one asked.

"I have not been Sorted yet."

"You have an accent. Where are you from?"

"Germany."

"Why are you here?"

"My brother and I moved here."

"Does your brother need to be Sorted, too?"

"No."

"Why?"

Two minutes was all she got before being siezed with an almost irresistable urge to rip her hair out. Five, and she began fantasizing about swimming the rest of the way. Ten, and she was wondering if she would get in trouble for strangling them unconcious. When the boat docked on shore and the massive doors swung open, Liesel darted ahead and found a quiet corner where she hoped she wouldn't be followed. Once she sank against the cold stone, she felt a pang of guilt. Katie was stuck with her siblings, and if Liesel was any sort of friend she should be helping her. Still, it was loud over there and peaceful and quiet over here, with the cool stone and the--

"Don't like the kids much either, do you?"

Liesel jumped at the echoing voice beside her, then jumped again when she saw a translucent man covered in silvery blood. The Bloody Baron. "Oh! Ah, no. Well, usually, but today...." She exhaled. "I had to come over with them on the boat, you see, and they asked a thousand questions about--"

"About your accent, why you're being Sorted at...whatever age you are, why you're all covered in blood--"

"I'm not covered in blood."

The Baron waved her objection away, then sighed. "Hiding is always a good idea, when it comes to kids."

"It is, isn't it?" A loud groaning commanded her attention, and she jumped to her feet. "The doors are opening. It was nice talking with you."

The Baron nodded curtly. "Same to you."

She hurried through the doors and stood by Katie as she awaited her turn.

"Making new friends?"

"Sorry. I just needed to get away."

"You can lose the accent, Leese."

"Well, sorry! Forgive me for wanting to blend in."

"_Blend in?_ You stick out like Queen Elizabeth at Comic-Con, talking like that!"

Liesel sniffed, crossed her arms and turned away. If Katie was going to be like that, she'd just pay attention to the Sorting. As she watched the others get placed, she had a thought. A wonderful, rebellious thought. What if she and Katie got put in separate Houses? It'd serve her right. If she was a Gryffindor and Katie was a Slytherin...well, there wasn't any better irony than that.

"Marsden, Liesel."

She came forward, sat on the stool and pulled the Hat over her ears.

"Well, well, well, another transfer student," the Hat said.

_Who's the other?" _

"Napoleon Dynamite. I'm sure you'll meet him before too long."

_It won't be long enough, I'm sure. _

The Hat laughed. "Feeling a bit feisty today, are we? Now, let's take a look at that mind of yours. Oooh, quite a bit of determination, I see....and a love of solitude....a desire to be noticed...Oh! And you speak German! How lovely."

_My parents spoke it around me when I was little. _

"Hmm....I see you and Millicent Bullstrode got off on the right foot."

_It was one conversation. _

"It's more than most people manage. What is your opinion of purebloods?"

Liesel hesitated. Purebloods? She hadn't thought much about them. She and Jacob were probably Mudbloods--er, Muggleborns--but then again, there were nice purebloods out there. There had to be. And if they'd just share what they knew--

"Would you object to Slytherin, Liesel Marsden?"

_Slytherin? _

"Oh yes. You'd do quite well in Slytherin. A German martial artist would fit right in, and if you're not lying about your blood--"

_My parents were Muggles. _

The Hat laughed. "Of course they weren't, dear. Your memories make it quite obvious what they were. Now," the Hat said before she could digest that bit of information, "about Slytherin."

Liesel couldn't help but smile. _Slytherin sounds fun. _

"Then it looks like you're a SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table cheered. They didn't stop cheering until Liesel sat down, and then there were congratulations and high-fives and Housemates clapping her on the back. Millicent even gave her a hug.

"I _told_ you it's the only House to be in!"

Then the table quieted down and listened to the rest of the ceremony. Liesel cheered whenever a new Slytherin joined their table, joined in the collective moan whenever a first year got put in Gryffindor, and felt only a stab of guilt when Katie and most of her siblings got Sorted into Hufflepuff.


	25. Chapter 25

Late that evening, Melinda reread her story, published _Three Yankees in Dumbledore's Court, _to see what had changed. Hopefully the part about Katie getting mugged by one of her Housemates and Liesel getting shunned by her fellow Gryffindors for being a wuss stayed the same. Excellent writing on her part, she thought, and it would be a shame for them to be edited by these writers.

When she first saw the chapter, she smiled. Four reviews already and not a word changed. Katie got mugged, Liesel got shunned, and Alex was too dumb for Ravenclaw. Even that bit about Dumbledore spilling champagne on himself had made it in. Perfect, perfect. Everything had gone according to plan.

Her smile faded.

Everything had gone according to plan.

These past weeks, nothing had gone according to plan. The writers or the characters always managed to change the story after she wrote it. The wording was usually different, too; the prose less elevated, the dialogue less refined. For nothing to change.....well, that meant something had changed, didn't it? Something about the writers or her own abilities.

What if she couldn't influence them anymore?

Melinda drew back from her keyboard, fingers shaking. She couldn't control them anymore? No, that couldn't be it. This was just a fluke. Just a little mishap. She'd write something else and by tomorrow it would be truth.

Swearing, she stood and paced, then pressed her Mark. "Something is wrong, my lord," she said when Voldemort arrived.

He cocked an eyebrow. "And that would be....?"

She drew a breath. "My....abilities aren't working. I can't influence them anymore."

"What do you mean, you can't influence them anymore?"

"I mean what I said. See?" She showed him the screen.

"I thought Dumbledore didn't drink champagne."

"He doesn't, my lord. I put that in as a test." She set the laptop down and paced again. "I need to influence them some other way. Charms wouldn't work...too detectable." Melinda stopped and faced him. "I need to get into Hogwarts."

"Not as a teacher?"

"A teacher would work....if there are any open positions."

"There aren't any."

"Hogsmeade, then?"

"Perhaps." He Disapparated, but Melinda already knew she had won the round.

* * *

After the Feast, Katie followed the rest of the Hufflepuffs down the winding corridors. They asked a thousand questions, but this round of interrogation was somewhat enjoyable.

"Why'd you come here?" Susan Bones asked.

She shrugged. "Oh, my mom just thought a change of pace would be nice....she got a job here....and next thing you know, you're moving to England."

"How many siblings do you have again?"

"Six. Liam and Allison were too young for Hogwarts, and Rory got put in Ravenclaw."

"Seven kids? You related to the Weasleys?"

Katie laughed. "Hardly. We're American, remember? Kinda far away to be related."

Ernie MacMillan shrugged. "You never know." They reached a painting near the kitchens. The prefect gave the password, and Katie gave a soft gasp of pleasure as she was led inside. Tapestries hung on the walls, woven in shades of yellow, and fat black armchairs sat on thick rugs. She punched her fist into one, and it was softer than her mother's down comforter back home. Little tunnels led out of the common room and into the dormitories.

"You like it?" Hannah Abbot asked with a grin.

Katie laughed. "It's awesome! It's so....so _squishy_ in here!"

Her Housemates laughed, and several of the girls hugged her. "Welcome to Hufflepuff."

* * *

It was late when Liesel reached the Slytherin common room, but she was far from tired. Conversing with her fellow Slytherins was like drinking a triple-shot latte, one she couldn't wait to finish.

Draco sent the younger students to bed, careful to avoid Pansy's gaze. Liesel pretended not to notice.

Soon, the common room was empty of everyone but some of the oldest students. They led Liesel to one of the fireplaces, pulled up some of the leather armchairs and pushed her into a seat. Not that she needed much pushing. One of the seventh years pulled out two bottles of mead, conjured a wine glass and splashed some in. Liesel accepted it.

"You don't have a problem with mead, do you?"

Liesel shook her head. She had heard that mead's acoholic content was sometimes pretty low, and figured students didn't drink anything too terribly strong before the first day of classes. Besides, she could handle it. Ever since Jacob was old enough to drink, he'd allowed her a sip or two of wine whenever he had a glass.

"What's the occasion?" a boy with glasses and a Scottish accent--she'd learned his name was Theo--asked, accepting his glass.

"The successful induction of the rare Slytherin transfer student," he said with a grin.

Millicent raised her glass. "Here, here!"

Liesel laughed and took a sip.


	26. Chapter 26

_I have something to share with you guys. As I was lying in bed a few nights ago, my thoughts strayed to this fic. It was then that I had an epiphany: If I've brought in Napoleon Dynamite, and I have a few more twists up my sleeve, what's to stop other writers (yes, they're out there, but they won't be major characters) from making this fic a free-for-all crossover fest? In light of this revelation, I have opened a poll on my profile, asking you which characters you'd most like to see make an appearance. I believe I limited it to four choices, but one of them is "Other, PM me with details" so if you'd rather see someone else not mentioned, PM me and let me know! In the meantime, enjoy the rest of this fic._

_

* * *

_

"Dude! This is Gryffindor?"

"This is Gryffindor."

Alex ran through the portrait hole and into the common room. He laughed at the comfortable-looking armchairs and thick rugs on the floor, then turned back to Harry and Ron. "This is totally awesome!"

Harry smiled, sinking into an armchair. "It _is_ pretty cool, isn't it?"

"Totally! I sorta thought I'd get put in Hufflepuff--'cause I have ADD, you know, and Hufflepuff just seemed like a more ADD House--"

"You have ADD? Me too!" Alex turned and high-fived a small, brown-haired boy about his age.

"What's your name again? Sorry, not good with names."

"Colin Creevey. And you're....Alex?"

"Alex Payne. Hey, how many ADD kids does it take to change a light bulb?"

"I dunno."

Alex paused for a minute, as if in thought, then broke into a grin. "Hey, wanna go ride bikes?"

Colin laughed. Harry and Ron traded looks. Later, in the sixth-year boys' dorm, they discussed it.

"Colin's okay and all," Ron said, "but he's kind of....I don't know...."

"Annoying?"

"Yeah. And now there's another one?"

Harry shrugged, setting his glasses on his nightstand. "At least he's got a friend now."

Ron nodded, then dropped the subject as the other boys came in. But the subject was not so easily dropped.

"So what do you think of the new transfer student?" Neville asked.

Harry and Ron traded glances again, then said in unison, "He's cool."

* * *

Jacob headed back to the Leaky Cauldron after seeing Liesel off at the train station, then lay there on his bed for a while. His baby sister, headed off to magical boarding school a year before Voldemort's reign of terror. It almost made him teary, thinking about it. She was all grown up, a witch who could change the course of wizarding history.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but he knew he had dozed off when a kick against his door startled him awake. Had he dreamed it? He bolted upright, nerves taut, listening for something to convince him one way or the other. A muffled thud was all the motivation he needed to get up and head to the door. He opened it and peered out into the hallway.

"Hello?"

A muffled voice this time--a woman's. Terrified. Jacob hurried out, locked his door and listened. A man's voice came from the room adjacent to his. In the name of fairness, he tried the knob and found it locked. He raised his wand, realized whoever was in there hadn't used a conventional lock and knocked instead.

"Who's that?" The voice was clear this time, low and menacing.

"I-I don't know, I swear!"

"Who's in there?" Jacob asked again.

"Who is it?" the voice demanded again.

"Pr-probably just a house-elf."

"House-elves aren't German, you dimwit!" He heard a rustle of fabric. "Who did you hire? Who's watching?"

"No one! I told you, no one's watching!"

Jacob had already set to work on the lock. He didn't know which charms had been used to freeze the knob in place, but figured no spell could stand up to a well-placed kick. On his third try, the locking pin bent. On his fourth, the door crashed open. He struck a deceptively relaxed pose, taking in the scene. A tall, dark-haired man held a woman by the collar, lifting her off the floor. The scene had frozen when he crashed in; neither moved.

"What is going on here? My room is too loud. Can't get any sleep."

"This doesn't concern you," the man growled.

Jacob stepped forward. "I am afraid it does. It is my sleep you are disturbing."

"Put up a charm."

He chuckled, still moving forward. "I tried, but you are so loud, I couldn't seem to concentrate. Perhaps we could work out an agreement?"

Before the man could answer, Jacob dropped to one knee and spun his other leg around, knocking him off his feet. The woman fell to the floor and scrambled away. Jacob lunged forward and pinned the man's arms to his back, holding him down with one knee. He tossed the woman his wand.

"Knock him out, now!"

She did.

Jacob stood back, looking from the man to the woman. "Death Eater?"

She nodded, biting a finger. Jacob could tell she was holding back tears.

"Put him in the Full-Body Bind, then help me get him in the closet. What's your name?"

"Lucille....Lucille Montgomery."

Jacob nodded. "All right, Lucille. Help me with him, and then we'll go out and get a drink, eh?"


	27. Chapter 27

_Thanks to everyone who voted in the poll so far! It's still open, so if you want your say, go vote! (Take note: I plan on putting in a few characters who weren't included in the poll because I'd already decided on them.) _

_

* * *

_

The first stop Jacob made was Tom's desk downstairs. "A Death Eater tried to attack her," her said, indicating Lucille. "He is upstairs in the closet. Full-Body Bind. You'll call the Aurors?"

"Yes, of course." His eyes were round, but Jacob steered Lucille out the door before Tom could ask for more information. It would be best to get her out of the inn and into the fresh air. Out on the street, a handful of people hurried about their business, ducking in and out of shops. A crowd would have been ideal--he and Lucille would have less chance of being heard--but since there was no crowd to be found, this would have to do. He bought a chocolate milkshake for her and water for himself, then chose a table outside close to the street.

"Drink your shake," he said when she didn't touch it. "The sugar will help."

She took a sip. Her hand shook when she reached for the glass. Jacob took a long swallow of water, then set his glass on the table. "Do you mind telling me what that was about?"

Lucille set her glass down and drew a breath, looking at her lap. "I....he...I'm pureblood, you see."

"And he wanted your help."

"Not help, exactly. More....turn a blind eye. Cover for them." She took another swallow of her milkshake. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come in when you did. My-my kids, and...." She wiped her eyes and looked up. "How did you know?"

"I heard a noise and decided to check. That's all." He smiled. "I have a little sister. I know how it is. She knows how to fight as well as I do, but still."

"Thank you."

It was a simple statement, but the heartfelt way she said it made him pause. "Just glad I could help."

Lucille looked at a watch, then shoved it back into her bag. "I should be going. My son is still with his grandmother."

"Would you like me to go with you?"

She looked up, and her eyes met his. Brown, deep brown. "Why?"

It occurred to Jacob that his question might have sounded suspicious. "I want to make sure you are not followed. But only if you want me along."

She studied him for a long moment before she smiled. Suspicion melted into relief. "I _would_ like you along."

* * *

The Montgomery home was a two-story brick structure a few miles outside London. The hedge was a tad overgrown and the lawn needed a trim, but it looked inviting. Cozy. Jacob glanced at the picket fence as he followed Lucille through.

"Muggle fences?"

"Robert thought they were the best way to keep Muggles away," she said with a smile. "'If the outside blends in, no one will care what's inside,' he used to say."

"Not a bad thought. Your husband?"

"He was." She took her wand out of her bag and tapped the doorknob, then stepped inside. "Ian! Mummy's home!" A brown haired boy who looked to be five or six thundered down the stairs and ran into Lucille's arms. She lifted him off the floor and held him close. "Oh, I missed you."

Ian pulled away so he could look into her eyes. "I painted a picture today. I figured out how to get the paint to move, too!"

"Oh, with magic?" Ian nodded, and she laughed and hugged him again. "Good job, sweetie."

"I told him to be careful with it." An older woman stepped out from the kitchen. "If he uses magic like this after he gets to Hogwarts--"

"It's all right, Patricia. He's not in school yet." Lucille turned to Jacob again. "Jacob, this is Patricia, my mother-in-law. Patricia, this is Jacob."

Jacob saw Patricia raise her eyebrows, then throw her hands into the air and march back into the kitchen. "I'll go explain--"

"No, no, I'll do it later. It'll make more sense, coming from me." She set Ian on the floor. "Why don't you go get that picture you were telling me about, Ian? I'd love to see it."

Ian left to get the picture, and Jacob turned to Lucille. "Is he your only child?"

"My only boy. He has two sisters. Twins. Both in Hogwarts."

"Ah. What house?"

Lucille raked a hand through her brown hair. "Ravenclaw. Smart girls. At least they're safe there."

"How long have the Death Eaters been after you?"

She exhaled. "Since You-Know-Who came to power. I suppose they thought I was a likely sympathizer--a pureblood widow with three children--but...."

"You're not."

Lucille shook her head. "It's hard, you know? You can only be evasive for so long before they get impatient, and then...."

"Here it is, Mum!" Ian proudly held up a childish drawing of the house and five stick figures holding hands across the lawn.

"This is beautiful, sweetie! I love it!" She smiled at the picture, then sent him to hang it up on the kitchen wall. "Ask Grandma to help you." She turned back to Jacob, who was staring at the kitchen door with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Let me help you," he said at last.

"Help me what?"

"I'll protect you. From the Death Eaters. They'd be far less likely to go after your kids if I am in the way."

Lucille's mouth opened, then closed. "Why?"

He thought about that a moment. "Because you're in trouble, and I have the means. I could not live with myself if I left you now."

Lucille stared at him, then looked away. "I'll think about it."

He headed for the door. "I'll be in the same room at the Leaky Cauldron when you are finished thinking."


	28. Chapter 28

_I figured now was as good a time as any to get away from the OCs and get back to the crack-laden goodness that is this crackfic!_

_

* * *

_

The cool September wind brushed his cheek, ruffling his dark hair like a mother's hand. He stood, fighting a wave of dizziness as he did. The buildings of downtown London towered over him. Someone bumped him on their way past, nearly knocking him to the ground. This time, he didn't even consider hexing them to next Tuesday; as it was, he wasn't sure if he even had his wand.

Battling a wave of panic along with nausea, he felt his clothes, hoping it hadn't vanished when he had. Relief flooded him when he saw it lying on the sidewalk next to where he'd lain, and he picked it up, watching the polished wood catch the warm glow of the streetlamp. Thirteen and a half inches long, yew, phoenix feather core. It warmed to his touch like a friendly handshake. Now all he had to do was Apparate back to....

Back to where? For the first time since appearing on the sidewalk, Tom took a good look around.

This wasn't the London he remembered.

The cars were different--more streamlined, smoother-looking. The buildings seemed shinier somehow, with neon signs everywhere he looked, and the people....well, not many people wandered around London at this time of night, but their clothes seemed tighter, more colorful, more...revealing.

Tom swallowed, certain he swallowed his vomit but not his fear, and stopped the first pedestrian he saw.

"Pardon me," he said, "but where am I?"

"You're in London, dimwit." The man pushed past him and hurried on.

"I knew that!" Tom called after him. "I meant what year is it!"

No answer. Huffing in frustration, Tom turned on his heel and marched the other way. Someone around here was bound to know exactly which _when_ he'd fallen into.

* * *

"You mean you bleed every single cow you slaughter?"

"Yes."

"So....there's no blood left....at all?"

"That's what I said, wasn't it?" The butcher sighed and turned to face the pale stranger. "Listen. Customers don't like blood. They don't like it when a nice steak can moo at 'em, see? So we get rid of as much blood as we can, then we sell the meat. Got it?" He turned away, muttering under his breath.

Edward shoved his hands into his pockets and walked out of the butcher shop. "God," he muttered in disgust. The butcher had seemed his best bet; if they didn't have animal blood, who else would? Of course, he had chosen _today_ to educate him on common practices in the business--namely, draining the blood until hardly any remained. And they didn't even save it! No, these ignorant humans threw it out like the garbage they thought it was.

He let out a sign, staring up at the London skyline. He was stuck here for the time being; he'd learned as much when he'd tried to contact Bella, then each of his siblings in turn and recieved no reply. No one had picked up the phone.

Were they all ignoring him? Or did they not yet know he was missing? No, they had to know by now. He knew it the moment he woke up this morning, with Bella gone and the room completely changed. The fact that everyone around him spoke with British accents was a bit of a tip-off, too. Now he was stuck in London without anything to eat but....

Oh God....

Squirrels.

Edward Cullen, the sparkliest vampire in the United States, vegetarian hunter extraordinaire, would be forced to subsist on squirrels. Pigeons, if he could catch them, but they usually wandered around in public places so he wasn't sure if he could get his hands on--

_Wham!_

Edward halted and shook his head, then looked at the person he'd just bumped into. A tall, dark-haired boy wearing what looked like....

"Um....why are you wearing a dress?"

The dark-haired boy looked offended. "It's not a dress! It's a _robe_!"

"It's a dress."

"No, it--" The boy exhaled. "I do not have time for this." He marched off, but Edward caught his arm.

"Hey, I was kidding."

"No, you were ignorant. But what more can I expect from a _Muggle_?" With a contemptuous smile, the boy tore his arm free and marched off.

Edward felt his temper flare. "I'm not a Muggle!"

"Oh?" The boy stopped. "Then what _are _you?"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do." He began walking back toward Edward. "I do want to know. I want to know how, first of all, you know what a Muggle is, and second, why your skin feels like that of an Inferi."

"What's an Inferi?"

The boy laughed. "_Muggles_ call them zombies."

Edward smirked. "Not too far off the mark."

"Oh?"

"I think you know what I am already."

"No, I don't."

"I think you do. I want _you_ to say it."

"I don't know what you are, and if you don't tell me, I'll hex you to oblivion!"

Edward laughed. "You'll _hex _me? What do you think you are--someone from a Disney movie? Like you'd have much luck against a vampire."

The boy raised an eyebrow. "A vampire, eh?" He smiled and shook Edward's hand. "Tom Riddle. Wizard."

"Edward Cullen. Vampire."

"You already said that."

"I know. I thought I'd say it again."

"Why?"

"Because it's a fun word!"

Tom gave him a strange look. "You're the oddest vampire I've ever met." He released Edward's hand and began walking. "Come with me. Perhaps you know what's going on."


	29. Chapter 29

_I was going to save this character for later, but he was smiling so sweetly and giving me those big puppy-dog eyes....I just couldn't say no! _

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* * *

_

A crash of steel announced his arrival. A small but deafening explosion confirmed it.

He opened the door on the right side of the van--the side that hadn't scraped against the wall--and jumped out, glancing around the old warehouse. Back in the States, he would have been trapped in the van, but here they drove on the wrong side of the road. Gotta love those Brits, eh?

He licked his lips and felt his pocket again. The switchblade wasn't going anywhere, natch, but the warm steel was comforting all the same. Like glancing at a friend in the seat next to you before the roller coaster got interesting, he thought, and the thought made him smile. If he ever hit another amusement park, he'd make their roller coaster interesting, no doubt about it.

The slap of rubber-soled tennis shoes on concrete told him one of his cronies had jumped out of the van. "Recruit" or "gang member" would have been more politically correct, but he preferred "cronie." While a lifelong fan of accuracy, he had never been a fan of political correctness.

"What now, Boss?"

He licked his lips again, glancing from side to side as though he saw the whole of London and not just the dingy interior of the warehouse. "I hear some, ah, _interesting_ people showed up today," he said, "and it wasn't us."

"What're you gonna do about it?"

A smile spread across his lips, tugging at his scars. God, he loved that feeling. "Find 'em, of course. What happens next will depend on how interesting they really are."

* * *

"This seems like a patently bad idea, Tom."

"Oh? Why do you say that?"

"Because...well....." Edward made a gesture that took in the cluttered backyard, the overgrown flower bed and garden, the screen door with a missing screen and, of course, the dozen or so cats prowling about. The glow of a streetlamp made his hand sparkle slightly, and he hastily pulled a glove on.

"Well, what? They're_ cats_, for the love of God. Who's going to miss them besides a decrepit old woman who lives alone?"

Edward tried to come up with a solid answer for that one, but the itching thirst in his throat closed off his reply. His stomach cramped with hunger, and he knew Tom's plan, stupid as it was, was also his only option. "I don't _want_ to eat cats."

"Do you have a better idea?"

"No...."

"Well, then...." He gestured to the yard, a gesture that said "What are you waiting for?"

Edward hesitated. He'd eaten deer, of course, and his share of semi-endangered species (spotted owls were delicious, no matter what the Environmental Protection Agency might say). He'd even stooped so low as to eat a cow when the family had relocated to a North Dakota farming community. Maybe that was why eating cats seemed so wrong, he reasoned. It was like a gourmet connesuir forced to eat McDonald's.

But if McDonald's was the only option.....

He took a breath, wondering why even as he did. Dead people usually didn't breathe; vampires were more the rule than the exception for that. Regardless, he let the breath out in a sigh. "Fine."

"You'll do it?"

"I don't have any more options, do I?"

Tom shrugged. "Since you've completely ruled out humans, squirrels and and fish--which we both agreed would have been sensible choices--then yes, you are out of options."

"Fish blood isn't the same," Edward whined.

"Of course it isn't," Tom said, dripping sarcasm.

"Have you ever _eaten _fish blood?"

"Considering I don't eat blood, no, I have not. And if we don't move before dawn, you will go hungry for another night," Tom added before Edward could further pursue a discussion of squirrel blood vs. fish blood. "Now stand still so I can place a Disillusionment Charm on you."

Edward sucked in another breath--why do I keep doing that? he wondered--and drew himself up straighter. Tom stepped forward, wand out, when Edward saw something coming through the fog. "What's that behind you?"

"Oh, don't try_ that _with me."

"No, really. There's someone coming...." He squinted and frowned. "Is that really....?"

Tom turned halfway so he could see the truth for himself and ward off any attack Edward might try. He was a vampire, after all. Every dimwit knew vampires couldn't be trusted. He was half-surprised to see a figure striding toward them. A garish purple coat came into view, followed by a white face framed by stringy green curls. He frowned, not taking his eyes off the figure.

"Is that....is that a _clown_?"

A cold shiver raced down his spine as an even colder laugh split the night. Now Tom could see a bright red smile painted over grotesque scars. Dark circles around the figure's eye sockets gave the illusion of him having no eyes at all, merely holes peering into deeper blackness. Tom shifted his weight, training his wand on the clown.

"Gentlemen," the clown said. "So glad I found you. London is a _hard_ city to navigate, I'll tell you that."

"Who are you?" Edward asked.

"What do you want?"

Another laugh. Tom felt his skin prickle. "_Want_? Well, up 'till now all I wanted was to find you! And now that I have, I guess this is where the party starts!"

"You still haven't told us who you are," Tom said. The clown broke into a wide grin.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I've been rude." He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a glossy playing card. "Here's my card."

Edward took it, studied it and frowned. He handed it to Tom, who also frowned. "It's a joker."

"_The_ Joker," the clown corrected. "Now. Who's ready to hit London?"

* * *

_Yes, I'm using the TDK version of the Joker. He just seemed to fit better. _


	30. Chapter 30

_Glory, glory, hallelujah, the spirit of Harry Potter fanfiction has called out to me! Well, called back, anyway. I was trying out some other fandoms and it took a while for me to get back on the HP bandwagon, so to speak. Know what really made me realize I should update this fic, though? I had a dream that I graduated from Hogwarts and got to give my parents (Muggles, natch) a tour of my House. I woke up and realized...I need to finish that HP/ real world/ kitchen sink crossover fic before I totally lose my marbles! So, anywho, here it is. _

* * *

Edward Cullen stared at the small white truck parked outside the hospital. A thousand objections sprang instantly to mind, but it was Tom who spoke first.

"Are you certain this is a good idea, Joker?"

Joker grinned, yellow teeth catching the light of a streetlamp. "'Course not, but it'll be fun. Besides. I don't see you comin' up with a better plan, Tommy Boy."

Tom gritted his teeth. "I thought I asked you not to call me that."

"Yeah? And I thought I asked _you_ to stand guard with Frank here. That wand of yours'll work better at gettin' rid of the cops, if they even show up."

The last part of his sentence fairly stank of sarcasm. Edward could almost smell it. "Tom's right, Joker. I'm not sure if this is completely..."

Edward was about to say 'ethical,' but he remembered whose company he was in just in time. Joker cocked an eyebrow.

"Completely _what_, Sparkles?"

"Secure," he finished lamely.

Joker laughed. "'Course it ain't secure! Where's the fun in robbin' something if y'know it'll go down without a hitch? Now come on, Sparkles. You hungry or not?"

Edward rolled his eyes and jumped over the hedge, joining Joker on the opposite side. At Joker's signal, he darted forward, his rapid pace making him nearly invisible to anyone watching. Joker arrived a moment later, dodging from streetlamp to streetlamp. Once there, Joker inserted a small lockpick into the driver-side door, twisted it a bit, and swung the door open. Grinning, he reached across and opened the passenger side.

"You comin' or not, Sparkles?"

Edward scowled. "This is so _wrong_."

"You wanted blood, I got you blood. Now get in the car!"

Edward obeyed, fastening his seatbelt. Joker laughed.

"Whatcha need that for, Sparkles? Not like I can kill ya again."

He rolled his eyes. "Just grab the others, would you?"

The truck lurched toward the hedge where Tom and Frank waited. They climbed into the second row of seats and Edward slammed the door just as Joker pulled out of the parking lot. Tom gripped the overhead handholds like a lifeline.

"Want me to drive, Joker?"

The clown grinned. "What's wrong? Worried I'll kill ya?" With another harsh laugh, the truck careened onto the highway and away from downtown London.

* * *

Harry folded his copy of the _Daily Prophet _and set it beside his cornflakes. "Did you read what happened in the paper today, Ron?"

"Considering I haven't seen the paper yet, no, I haven't."

He handed it across. Ron scanned the front page and looked up in confusion. "They stole a car...full of _blood_? Why was the car full of blood?"

Hermione snatched the paper from Ron. "It's called a blood bank. Muggles donate their blood to hospitals for transfusions." When Ron looked even more confused, Hermione explained further. "They can't replenish blood, and since there are all sorts of blood types, Muggles donate a pint or so of their own blood so that if another Muggle gets into a car crash or something else that causes them to lose a lot of blood, they'll be able to replace their blood that way."

Ron shuddered. "Barbaric."

Hermione shrugged. "What else can they do without magic?" She lifted the paper slightly, then lowered it when she finished reading. Her frown matched Ron's. "Why would they steal a donation truck? It's not like there's money in it."

Draco's voice came from behind them, making them jump. "Vampires, probably."

"Don't they have remedial potions for...you know?" Ron asked.

Draco shrugged. "Maybe this one got sick of artificial blood. I know I would."

Harry stared at him. "And you would know this..._how_?"

"Artificial anything turns nasty after a while. And if this was one who's fed on the real thing before...well, you can do the math."

Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I still don't know why they'd leave a truck full of blood just sitting there."

Draco cast a pointed glance at the Slytherin table, where Liesel was holding an animated conversation with some of her Housemates. "Why don't you ask _her_?"

"You think Liesel has something to do with this?"

"If she doesn't, she might know why it happened." He turned to leave. "Writers almost always have something crazy up their sleeves."

* * *

_So far, I've decided that the following characters will make appearances: _

_Harvey Dent/ Harvey Two-Face  
Dr. Doofenshmirtz and Perry the Platypus  
Peter Parker/ Spiderman _

_Those are the three who got the most votes in my poll. Harley Quinn came in fourth, so she's a definite maybe. I'm also toying with the idea of bringing in Danny Fenton/ Phantom and a few of his friends (or villains, as it were) and also...hmmm...what would you think if George Washington and a couple other Founding Fathers stumbled into this story? Let me know! _


	31. Chapter 31

_Okay! After waaaayyyyy too long, here is the next chapter!  
_

* * *

Doctor Heinz Doofenshmirtz was not an imposing man. With his slouching posture, prominent hooked nose, and tuft of reddish hair, he looked more like a less flamboyant cousin of Carrot Top. Add the lab suit he always wore, and Perry could see why his nemesis was often mistaken for a pharmacist. Most days, the good doctor's shenanigans were more worthy of an eye-roll than an air-raid siren.

Today was no different.

Doofenshmirtz turned from the window, a smile stretching his lips. "Oh, Perry the Platypus. You made it, all the way from the Tri-State Area. Just in time for your trap."

A large basket, just the size for a platypus, fell from the ceiling. Perry banged a fist on the side and felt solid metal.

The scientist pressed his palms together, tapping his fingertips against each other rhythmically. "I suppose you're wondering why I have all these baskets here in this little flat."

The enormous pile of baskets, all shapes and sizes and colors, had attracted the platypus' attention, but he knew an explanation was coming. Doofenshmirtz never kept his nemesis in the dark for too long. He was considerate that way.

Doofenshmirtz crossed to the window and stared out, as if seeing scenes from his childhood passing by. Perry continued tapping the walls of his basket, searching for a weak spot, careful not to drum too loud. The scientist's backstories were always worth hearing.

"When I was a boy, back in Gimmelshtump, I spent my days waiting for an owl to crash through my window. Now, I know what you're thinking, Perry the Platypus: Why would a boy spend his days waiting for a nocturnal predator to cause property damage? Well, this was no ordinary owl. This was the owl that would bring my long-awaited Hogwarts acceptance letter!"

Perry froze.

"Yes, Perry the Platypus, my mother was a witch. My father was a Muggle, but we never talked about that. Anyway. One day, after many hard, lonely years of Mother shaking her finger in my face and calling me a Squib, the owl arrived. She, of course, thought it was for Roger, two years early. But no-it was for me! After pawning my garden gnome outfit for school supplies, I got on the train and rode happily into the sunset. The Hat put me in Slytherin-and since my mother was going through a phase where she was obsessed with snakes, she was proud. But, like so many things in my childhood, it couldn't last."

He couldn't be. Not him. Not the goofy mad scientist who never managed to destroy anything but his own apartment.

Doofenshmirtz grasped the windowsill, sorrow etching his features. "I had barely begun to master the ways of magic when my brother, Roger, came to Hogwarts. He was Sorted into Gryffindor and, as luck would have it, Mother's obsession had shifted from snakes to lions. The next day, Roger received a basket full of sweets, comic books, and a new broom-while I received a basket full of vipers." The scientist turned to Perry with an expression of puzzlement. "You know, for a House with a snake for a mascot, the other Slytherins sure didn't like having snakes on the breakfast table."

He straightened. "So, Perry the Platypus, I will destroy all baskets in the London area!"

Perry simply stared.

"I know what you're thinking: Why not destroy all vipers instead? I just...can't." He waved his hand. "You don't destroy snakes. It's a Slytherin thing."

Doofenshmirtz removed the canvas covering from a giant metal machine- not unlike in appearance to every other Inator he had devised.

"Behold! The Basket-Be-Goneinator!"

The chink in the basket's armor was just above Perry's head; he would have no trouble reaching it. But for a moment, his tentative sense of relief was so great that he couldn't move.

The scientist paused with his hands in the air for a full minute before he noticed something was missing. His unibrow furrowed as he looked at his nemesis. "Perry the Platypus, you're not escaping from your trap."

Perry blinked.

"Oh, I get it." Doofenshmirtz folded his arms and looked away, his expression resembling that of a petulant child. "You're a Gryffindor. Too good to thwart a Slytherin, are you?"

Not really, Perry thought. Quite the opposite. He shook his head to clear it, drove his fist through the chink in the metal, and drew either side apart like a curtain. With a fantastic leap, he was out of the trap.

Doofenshmirtz grinned. "Haha! You know, Perry the Platypus, for a second, I thought something might be _wrong_-"

He was interrupted by Perry's fist.


	32. Chapter 32

Voldemort was the best character in the series, bar none. His power was unparalleled. His wits were unmatched. And while Melinda would never admit it to anyone save herself, she had more in common with the Dark Lord than with the Boy Who Lived.

Of course, all this unequaled skill also meant that, when he wanted to, he could be the most irritating human being on the planet.

Well, second most. Potter was definitely the first.

"It worked, my lord."

He turned his head, lifting an eyebrow sardonically. "Did it now."

Melinda feigned nonchalance, leaning against the doorjamb. "You thought it wouldn't?"

"Of late, your powers seem to be…failing." He turned his face back toward the smoldering fire. "Frankly, Melinda, I'm impressed this trick worked as well as it did."

Anger flared in her like a dragon's flame, but she maintained a cool veneer. "I can alter other worlds, my lord, other timelines. Just not this one. Not directly, anyway."

Voldemort stood, and the morning edition of the _Prophet _fell to the floor. Melinda read the headline upside-down: "Muggle Lorry Robbed; Blood Stolen." He tipped her chin with a single finger.

"Then I suggest your next alteration include more than a violated blood bank, dear Melinda."

* * *

"Hogwarts? Why are we going to Hogwarts?"

The Joker laughed. "Tommy, Tommy, Tommy."

"If you don't stop calling me that, I'll kill you."

The laugh resumed, rising in pitch. This one lasted much longer than the other, turning the warm afternoon cold. "_You_? Kill _me_? I'd like to see you try, Tommy Boy."

Tom could only huff—an action that made the Joker giggle. Tom might be the Heir of Slytherin, the most brilliant wizard of his day, but he was still only sixteen—and just as vulnerable to bullets as the next Muggle. The thought made his anger rise, but he forced it down. "So why are we here?"

"There's someone…." The Joker licked his scarred lips. "Someone who needs to learn that messing with destiny is not the brightest way to go." He grinned, but didn't laugh.

"Who is it?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Tom looked up sharply. "A Malfoy? Why?"

"Didn't you hear me, Tommy Boy? He's messin' with destiny." The Joker waved his pistol. "You. Sparkles."

Edward exhaled slowly, his crimson eyes still on the distant school. "Yes?"

The clown tossed a thin, leatherbound volume at the vampire's feet. "Tommy's gonna use one of his _spells_ to hide you. Go ahead and give that to little Drakey, 'long with some mumbo-jumbo about being for the best, or the sake of his future—whatever nonsense you wanna give him—and get back here."

Edward lifted the book and read the title, then looked up with a frown. "I don't see how this is going to—"

The Joker pulled back the hammer on his pistol. "You want me to get the flamethrower, Pretty Boy?"

Edward froze.

"That's what I thought. Now, you just go on up to that school and do what I'm tellin' you. Oh, and Sparkles?"

"Yes?"

The Joker smirked. "Make sure you stand in the sunlight."

* * *

There are precious few things that wizards find unbelievable. An ordinary baby boy defeating the most powerful dark wizard in a hundred years is one of them. A sparkling seventeen-year-old male is another.

When Draco first spotted him, standing at the edge of the castle grounds, he had to shield his eyes. The sun reflected off his skin somehow, making him look more like an oversized diamond than a human being. He came closer, clutching something to his chest, glancing over his shoulder as if afraid to be seen.

How had he gotten onto school grounds without being caught?

Draco glanced over his left shoulder, then his right. No one else seemed to see him, but if he had made it onto school grounds anyway….

One last glance confirmed he was alone; none of his fellow students had seen the stranger, and Draco started toward him.

As if sensing he had been spotted, the glittering teenager threw the object on the grass and bolted for the Forbidden Forest. Draco started to run—then stopped. What if he was simply imagining things? Would the others think he was crazy? A fair portion of Slytherin House now believed he was nursing a soft spot for Potter; he didn't need them thinking him mental as well. Slowly, calmly, with the grace expected of a Malfoy heir, Draco made his way toward the abandoned object. As he neared it, he saw it was a book.

_Like the one Dad put in the Weasley girl's cauldron a few years back? _

Draco shook the thought away. This book was completely different. It had a title, for one thing. The words _My Immortal _were engraved in rough red letters across the front cover. Frowning, he opened to the title page. A note was written in ordinary black ink:

_Those who attempt to write their own destinies often have their destinies written for them. _

What the _hell_…?

Ignoring the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, Draco tucked the book into his school bag and sauntered back toward the castle.


End file.
